


indomitable heart

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Sentients Rights Violations, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Jedi Culture, M/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Mpreg, True Mandalorians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 102,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Third chance, second master, first love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [jen_chan13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jen_chan13/pseuds/jen_chan13) | [@myurbandream](https://myurbandream.tumblr.com/) for the amazing beta job, she probably had no idea how much work she signed up for. Any remaining mistakes are the authors.
> 
> Art is by [Niibeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niibeth) | [@niibeth](https://niibeth.tumblr.com/) who also went above and beyond with her lovely illustrations.
> 
> This is very AU, with Dooku as Obi-Wan’s Master, and Galidraan, where we start, happening much later in the timeline. Other events will differ from canon as a result - also because in some instances your author felt like chucking canon out the window. The old EU has been treated with the same respect - your author has gleefully stolen bits she liked and rearranged them in a fashion she liked even better. Obi-Wan is ~20 at the outset, Jango in his early 30s. For Dooku’s first name I use Jan since there’s no canon name and I’ve seen a few variations in fanon. Mando’a translations in end notes as needed. Other end notes at your author’s whims.

“Would it not be wiser, my Master, to investigate the Governor’s accusations before forming a militaristic task force that could unnecessarily escalate the situation?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. His Master paused, turning slightly to regard Obi-Wan with one dark eye, his silvered eyebrow raised as he hummed softly in consideration.

Over the years, Jedi Master Jan Dooku had learned to take his apprentice’s feelings and questions quite seriously. The young man at his side was strong in the Unifying Force, and had a talent for premonition and precognition. A cautioning question such as this was often buttressed by a feeling of hesitation and unease in the Force, and those reverberations didn’t echo from Obi-Wan himself. While he might not see all paths, Obi-Wan’s perceptive questions oft guided them in the right direction.

“A wise precaution,” Jan said, one corner of his mouth hitching up slightly. Obi-Wan flushed at the praise, ducking his head. “Come, just because the Council feels I have enough arrogance for any two Jedi, that does not mean you must carry the humility for us both,” Dooku chided gently. “You are deserving of praise, my dear.” 

Obi-Wan’s flush deepened at the familiar admonition, but he melted against Dooku when his Master gently embraced him, tangling his hands in Dooku’s tabards. This too was something Jan had learned over the years of their partnership. His soft-hearted Padawan soaked up praise and affection like a sponge, and seemed impervious to arrogance, although his introverted nature and association with Jan often made others assume him haughty. The boy’s humility did, in truth, help temper the Master’s arrogance, and they had each learned much from the other over the years.

“We will approach Galidraan quietly and learn what we can before acting,” Dooku declared, then pressed a soft kiss to Obi-Wan’s brow before releasing him from the hug. As usual, the physical affection flushed Obi-Wan’s pale countenance. Jan fought not to chuckle. His Padawan’s blushes could likely heat a small space station. It had always been this way though. 

When Jan had first offered Obi-Wan a place at his side, the boy had been three steps from boarding a transport to Bandomeer and the AgriCorps for a second time, having been repudiated by one of Dooku’s previous Padawans, Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been separated during the reconciliation of the civil war on Melida/Daan, Qui-Gon returning to the Temple with his injured compatriot Tahl, and Obi-Wan left behind on the war-torn world to make his way the best he could. 

Obi-Wan’s conscience had demanded he help the Young of that planet in their quest for peace, and he’d succeeded emphatically. Qui-Gon’s conscience had demanded his friend be treated at best possible speed, and he’d never forgiven his former Padawan for the fact that Tahl had been blinded, despite that Tahl herself held no grudge. That was more than five years ago now, and while Obi-Wan’s initial awe of Dooku had faded into loyalty and respect, the Padawan’s rough Initiate period and short and tumultuous first apprenticeship had all but broken his confidence, making every bit of praise treasured. 

A tenday after Obi-Wan made his suggestion of caution, Dooku disembarked from an unassuming trader’s ship at the spaceport on Galidraan with his Padawan at his side. During the course of the journey, both he and Obi-Wan had refreshed their knowledge on the long and war-wracked history of Mandalore and its near galactic neighbors. Since the recent intensification of hostilities, misinformation and covert operations had been widespread. A quiet investigation, rather than an outright acceptance of the mission as outlined by the Governor of Galidraan, really was the wisest choice, and Jan was a little dismayed that his Padawan had to suggest such a method before Jan realized that for himself.

Arrogance, Jan reminded himself. It had long been his failing, and Obi-Wan’s quiet humility had once again saved the day. Jan hid another grimace at that. He had been somewhat loath to take on another apprentice after his failure with Komari. She had learned his arrogance well, and then exceeded him in that trait. She had viewed it her _right_ to become a Jedi Knight, rather than the privilege it truly was. She had viewed his tutelage - and eventually his body - as hers by right as well, and turning aside her advances when he had at first viewed her as a child and later as an immature and undisciplined adolescent had been wearing. 

When Jan had heard that this child who so delighted his own Master would be sent to the AgriCorps, Dooku had felt called by the Force to intervene despite the still raw hurt of Komari’s death. Heart still aching from the Fall of his previous Padawan, Xanatos, Obi-Wan’s first Master - and Jan’s previous Padawan - Qui-Gon Jinn had felt too betrayed by Obi-Wan’s decision to assist the Young of Melida/Daan to accept the boy as his Padawan a second time. 

Every day since, Dooku had been thankful. While Qui-Gon had been trying in his own ways, and had taught Dooku many lessons, even that troublesome boy hadn’t truly taught Dooku anything of humility. While not arrogant, Qui-Gon had never lacked confidence. He lived absolutely in the moment, something that was rare, even among the Jedi.

It took a few days on the ground in Galidraan, but Jan and Obi-Wan soon learned of the presence of, and accusations against, Jango Fett, the proclaimed Mand’alor and leader of the True Mandalorian faction. Despite his profession, ill-regarded by most in the Republic, the bounty hunter was respected widely by the Mando diaspora, and nearly revered by his followers as the chosen heir of reformer Jaster Mereel. From the reports, Dooku couldn’t help but be impressed by Fett and his faction, and suspicious of the allegations against them. 

Born on the agricultural colony world of Concord Dawn, Fett was the son of a Journeyman Protector, and had been raised in the traditional Mando manner. He had been adopted by Mereel after the death of the elder Fetts at the hands of Death Watch commandos led by Tor Vizsla. From what little was recorded beyond that in the official records, Fett was already an almost unmatched warrior despite being only in his early thirties. He also boasted a strong mind for tactics that had seen the True Mandalorians become one of the most sought after and highly paid mercenary armies in the Mandalorian Sector, which boasted more than the galactic average of soldiers for hire.

Upon their arrival, the two Jedi ghosted through the capital of Galidraan, learning what they could. It was soon apparent that the situation was more than tense - Galidraan was a thermal detonator primed to blow. The Governor had contracted the True Mandalorians to quell an insurrection, but after the faction had arrived and eliminated the rebels they had been contracted to subdue, civilians had been killed, and the True Mandalorians blamed. Moreover, some citizens whispered that those killed under the contract hadn’t been terrorists at all, simply citizens agitating for fair governance. If Jan had brought a strike force of Jedi to this world, he was certain things would have gone very wrong very quickly. As it was, they needed more information from both the Governor and from Fett and his faction. 

Knowing the Governor was unlikely to be pleased that his request wasn’t being followed to the letter, Jan decided a little infiltration was in order, at least in that direction. Fett hopefully would be cooperative with their investigation; Jan didn’t think it would be wise - or possible - to surveil the True Mandalorians without attracting their suspicion, and the preliminary evidence didn’t support the accusations of wrongdoing against them. Jan would have to hope that honesty was the correct approach, and that it wouldn’t end up burning him and his Padawan before this was over. They’d fought their way out of difficult situations before, but none of those ‘difficult situations’ included hundreds of Mandalorian Supercommandos trying to kill them, and it wasn’t an experience Jan was looking to have first hand.

Carefully, without attracting undue notice, Jedi Master and Padawan made their way to the encampment of the True Mandalorians outside town. Everything was set up with military precision, the tents placed in neat rows, a regular patrol schedule of beskar’gam clad warriors pacing the perimeter. Dooku bowed respectfully to the guard manning the approach, and a step to the left and behind, his apprentice bowed even more deeply. 

“I am Jedi Master Jan Dooku, and this is my apprentice, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. We wish to speak to the Mand’alor, if he will receive us,” Dooku greeted politely, thankful once more for his lessons on humility with Obi-Wan. A Mandalorian in beskar’gam was not a good enemy to make, even if the armour was more likely to be durasteel rather than true lightsaber-resistant beskar plate. The commando nodded sharply, then waited a few moments. In-helmet commlink, Dooku realized. A useful function. 

“The Mand’alor will see you,” the guard responded in clipped Basic, their voice rasping through the vocoder on their helmet. “Someone will be here shortly to escort you. You will be escorted at all times in this camp.” Dooku nodded. Mandalorians had a deep-seated distrust of the Jedi, and after a rereading of their history, Dooku didn’t half blame them. 

The Jedi had, at the behest of the Republic, decimated the Mandalorian people. Even hundreds of years and generations later, much of the surface of Mandalore remained barren desert as a result of orbital bombardment. The Mandalorians hadn’t forgotten that preemptive action, called by the Republic ‘the Excision,’ and by Mandalorians, _Dral’Han_ , the Annihilation. The difference in terms more than exemplified the way the conflict was remembered by the two sides.

As promised, another Mandalorian warrior soon arrived. Like the guard, the escort’s beskar’gam was comprised of modular metal plating secured to sturdy armourweave and topped by a domed helmet with t-slit visor. There was little other commonality, other than the shield-and-banners sigil of the True Mandalorian faction painted on their pauldrons.

Their escort led them to a central tent, larger than the others. The interior of the tent was taken up by a large but portable holotable, currently emitting a holomap of the nearby city. Bright dots marked locations, but without additional information, it was impossible for an outsider to guess what the dots meant. What little text there was, was rendered in Mando letters, sharp verticals that neither Jan nor Obi-Wan could yet decipher. At the back of the tent, a man with short, curling dark hair and warm brown skin sat, bared to the waist and cautiously dabbing antiseptic gel on his wounds. His broad torso was bruised and riddled with scars, most from blaster bolts, but some burns and cuts as well. 

“Mand’alor,” their escort greeted, and the man grunted, then rose. The True Mandalorian sigil was tattooed on his muscular chest above the heart, and his dark eyes were hard.

“ _Jetii_ ,” the Mand’alor greeted somewhat coolly, and Dooku and Obi-Wan bowed as if meeting a Head of State; many would argue that was exactly what Jango Fett was. 

“Mand’alor,” Dooku returned in his deep rich tones. “The Governor of Galidraan asked for Jedi assistance in quelling an insurrection. Aware as we are of the rampant misinformation spread by all factions in this conflict, we have come to fully and _properly_ investigate accusations of genocide and terrorism against your faction before making any recommendations. This investigation will be carried out with or without your cooperation, but if you are willing to assist us, that will be taken into account no matter the final analysis of the situation.”

“I am deeply troubled by these accusations,” Fett said. “I will acknowledge there have been heavy losses by all factions. But this sounds as if we are being accused of targeting civilians, which is anathema to the True Mandalorian way. We accept that not all are called to the life of a warrior, although we do not necessarily understand that. But we are devoted to our families, our clans, and the thought that we might purposefully move against the future generations - it is reprehensible to me. You will have the full cooperation of the True Mandalorians.”

As Fett spoke, Obi-Wan listened carefully, getting a better sense of the man than was possible through archival research. Fett’s voice was low and accented. Mando’a, Obi-Wan thought, was likely Fett’s first language, as it was for most born on Concord Dawn. He spoke formally - more formally than Obi-Wan had expected from someone who made his living with a blaster. Obi-Wan shook that thought aside. Fett was a leader of his people, one who used the skills he had been trained in by his mentor. The True Mandalorians likely didn’t follow him solely because he was Jaster Mereel’s son, or because he was a deadeye shot. They followed because they believed in him, and that required more than just a strong fighter. 

“In that spirit, I must warn you that the Governor is in league with Death Watch,” Fett continued. “I brought my clan here to Galidraan at his request, to put down a local insurrection. Tor Vizsla was already here when we arrived, although we didn’t know it then, and we only found out while carrying out our contracted duties. When our contract was honourably completed and I went to collect remuneration, Death Watch was waiting. I was nearly killed trying to return,” Fett explained, gesturing vaguely at his scar riddled torso. Dooku glanced slightly to the side, and Obi-Wan dipped his head minutely, trying not to stare at the play of light and shadows across Fett’s defined pectoral muscles and abdomen. The Mand’alor was sincere. 

“I believe you, Mand’alor, which only makes the accusations more troubling. As I’m sure you’re aware, one of my brother Jedi is currently protecting the Duchess Satine Kryze, whose pacifist ideals have placed a target on her back. It is my hope that by clearing you of these false accusations and exposing Tor Vizsla, if he has done as you say, some sort of agreement can be reached, which would benefit all Mandalorians,” Dooku said, in his soothing but powerful tones. Fett bowed his head slightly in agreement.

“If you are able to do that, Jedi, you will have redeemed much of your Order’s reputation in the eyes of my people,” Fett said with a slight smirk, shrugging into a light knit top that clung to his broad shoulders and muscular chest. “We do not hold Jedi in high esteem here, and it might behoove you to keep your lightswords close while you are about your business.” 

“Your advice is much appreciated,” Dooku returned wryly. Obi-Wan could feel his Master’s slight amusement through the bond they shared, and knew that the sheer confidence of the Mand’alor had gained at least a bit of Dooku’s respect. The Jedi Master was one who appreciated tradition, but also saw paths for improvement moving forward, an attitude that Obi-Wan thought the Mand’alor and members of his faction shared, based on his readings.

Over the next few days, Dooku interviewed as many of the True Mandalorians as possible in the camp. Obi-Wan went into the city, carefully asking questions and making observations there, and wondering if the division of labour was because his Master had noted the way Obi-Wan’s eyes lingered on the Mand’alor, the way Obi-Wan blushed whenever he conversed with Fett. Obi-Wan did his best to concentrate on their mission. At night though, his mind replayed the soft, accented voice of the Mand’alor, the warm glint of his dark eyes. He’d had crushes before, but none of them had impacted him quite so strongly, and while he could force himself to concentrate, he meditated more and more frequently on what Fett was coming to mean to him, his growing regard for the man behind the title _Mand’alor_.

It didn’t hurt that Mand’alor Fett was always willing to spend a moment with Obi-Wan, to explain a historical precedent or cultural linkage that Obi-Wan as an outsider just didn’t understand. Every time Obi-Wan looked to the Mand’alor, he found those eyes on him. Invariably, the attention made Obi-Wan stammer and blush, and Fett quirk a sly little smile. The other Mando’ade seemed more than a bit amused by such exchanges, but they too always made Obi-Wan feel welcome at their fire, sharing stories of their childhoods or myths of their ancestors - or the wide variety of swears in Mando’a. 

Before long it was quite clear to Obi-Wan that Jango Fett, although lacking blood ties with the rest of the clan, had nevertheless made them his family. His officers were his chosen siblings, the bonds of brotherhood forged in battle as strong as those of blood. At times Obi-Wan heard the quiet reminiscing of Fett with some of the others from Concord Dawn, the wistfulness in their voices as they spoke of the quiet life there on their farms before Death Watch came.

Obi-Wan knew integrating so closely with the Mando’ade was unwise. He had a tendency to become attached to people, and the Mando’ade were welcoming. The more Obi-Wan learned, the more it became clear that the True Mandalorians were honourable people. They had completed their contract, and only remained on Galidraan to ensure that payment was forthcoming. When bodies had begun turning up - some of them tangentially linked to the rebels the True Mandalorians had been hired to subdue - the Supercommandos had further restricted their movements to their encampment to ensure they couldn’t be accused of acting outside their contractual jurisdiction.

Knowing that anecdotes and gut feeling wouldn’t be enough to prove innocence if the Governor was intent on framing the True Mandalorians, Obi-Wan hunted for evidence of any Death Watch presence. While it was clear that members of the faction were in the area, there was little to connect Death Watch to the disappearances and murders. Stymied by that angle, Obi-Wan set about reconnoitering the Governor’s mansion in preparation for infiltration.

It took almost a tenday, but Obi-Wan eventually found his way inside the Governor’s mansion via a service entrance that connected to the kitchens. Disguised as a delivery boy, Obi-Wan was able to slip in, and was soon slicing his way into the datacore. At first, little of the data appeared helpful, mainly pertaining to taxes and expenditures, events and ongoing legal actions. Finally though, Obi-Wan found the secure server. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t someone who understood code slicing at an instinctive level, but he had been highly trained to carry out a variety of missions, and he practiced those skills so they would be at hand in any situation. While it took him longer than he would have liked, Obi-Wan soon found his way past the firewall into the restricted data. There, he found a jackpot: expansive ledgers documented all manner of corruption and illegal activity, including messages between the Governor and Tor Vizsla, leader of the terroristic Death Watch faction.

Carefully Obi-Wan downloaded all the information to an encrypted datachip. He only looked through a few of the files on the terminal before downloading everything, not sure what would end up being important but knowing that getting as much evidence as possible was crucial. Even beyond his attraction to Jango Fett, Obi-Wan had come to admire and respect the True Mandalorians while staying in their encampment, and he enjoyed learning everything they were willing to share about their history, language, and culture. 

The True Mandalorians were proud warriors, but not as fanatically traditionalist as Death Watch, who wanted a return to the days of the Mandalorian Crusaders, whose reign of terror had lasted decades and struck at worlds deep into the galactic core. While the True Mandalorians were proud of their imperial-minded ancestors and warrior traditions, they also understood that a culture bent on invasion and conquest would earn them the wrath of the Republic as a whole, a war they could not hope to win no matter their courage and strength. Obi-Wan was always happy to hear their tales though, and was rapidly picking up the Mando’a language that was more widely spoken here than Galactic Basic. 

Even after giving his Master the information from the Governor’s Mansion, Obi-Wan returned to the city. Dooku was still interviewing the True Mandalorians, recording their accounts of the Civil War, its causes, and the various battles and propaganda campaigns that had been undertaken. The fighting was almost entirely between the True Mandalorians and Death Watch, although they made up a minority of the Mandalorian population. That didn’t mean the rest of the Mando diaspora wasn’t watching closely to see who would come out on top, and wondering at a chance of reconciliation between the various factions. 

Obi-Wan listened well, slipping unobtrusively from shadow to shadow. He listened with his ears, but also with the Force, hearing the fear and deception that lay thick on the ground here in Galidraan. He might not see shatterpoints like Master Windu, but Obi-Wan had always been strong in the Unifying Force, and while Master Dooku helped him gain familiarity with the Living Force as well, he had also helped Obi-Wan refine his prescient abilities so they could be utilized as if seeing the branching paths of probability. Something great and terrible hinged on Galidraan, Obi-Wan’s senses told him, and the Force echoed with agreement. 

That night when he returned to the encampment, Obi-Wan found the tent he’d been accorded with his Master and knelt next to their bedrolls, seeking the stillness of the Force. It took a little while longer than usual, his mind still churning, but soon enough he sank into a light meditative trance. Obi-Wan breathed deeply, letting go of his fears and anxieties, quieting his mind and letting himself sink deeper. With a final sigh, he released the last of his concerns and let the Force carry him. 

At the beginning of his meditation, Obi-Wan did what his Master somewhat teasingly called ‘maintenance,’ setting his memories of the day so he could access them quickly and accurately, and discarding unhelpful emotions. He usually did a short maintenance meditation in the mornings as well, to waken his facilities fully and prepare himself for the day. Once he’d performed that short ritual, Obi-Wan sank even deeper into meditation and began turning over his feeling that what happened at Galidraan would be of grave import. He considered the angles of this conflict, who the stakeholders and benefactors were. 

From what Obi-Wan had gleaned around town, the True Mandalorians were much more respected by the common folk, but the Death Watch much more feared. The New Mandalorians were - well, for all that they were the largest faction, they weren’t always terribly well respected by those that didn’t share their viewpoint. People could individually respect Duchess Satine; she made for quite the tragic heroine with her Jedi protector keeping her away from innumerable assassination attempts. And they could understand why someone who had lost so much might wish for an end to all warring. But Mandalorians - the Mando’ade, Obi-Wan reminded himself, for that was the name they used for themselves - clung to their rich heritage with a fierceness that exposed them as the warriors they long had been.

After about an hour of meditation, Obi-Wan surfaced. The tent was still and dim around him, and so he rose and quickly cleaned his hands and face, then set up their little portable stove outside and warmed two portions of field rations. By the time he’d got the food warm through, Master Dooku had arrived, his hands huddled up under his cloak as he sat on the ground near the stove. Obi-Wan could feel the gentle pull of the Force his Master used to remain warm, a minor application that many would scoff at; but Dooku was no longer young, and chilled easily. 

Obi-Wan silently split their rations, then knelt at his seated Master’s side and offered him first choice. When Obi-Wan had become Master Dooku’s Padawan, he had taken on care of his teacher. He woke before Master Dooku each morning and prepared first meal, then carefully laid out his Master’s clothing while Dooku washed up for the day. He prepared mid meal and late meal as well, kept his Master’s schedule, and maintained the cleanliness of their quarters. Some Padawans might complain about such division of labour, but Dooku had never assigned these tasks to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan enjoyed taking care of the older man. It was a silent expression of his gratitude for the education and training his Master provided.

“Well, Padawan,” Jan said gently when they had eaten and Obi-Wan had cleaned up, then brewed them each a cup of tea. Obi-Wan knelt at his Master’s side, gathering his thoughts. After a considering pause, he spoke of his feelings on Galidraan’s importance, and the information he had found that day. As Obi-Wan reported, Jan sipped at his tea, silently projecting his approval and affection. “You’ve done well today Padawan,” Jan said, earning a shy flush from his apprentice.

“I believe we will soon have to bring our findings to the Council for further orders. Death Watch does not seem to truly have the good of Mandalore as their highest priority, and I feel that between Mand’alor Fett and Duchess Kryze, an agreement could be reached. She is stubborn in the way of youth and with the strength of a true believer, but I think she could be convinced of the True Mandalorians’ sincerity. It is Death Watch we must keep a close eye on, for they believe in violence as both means and end,” Jan said thoughtfully. 

“I’ll prepare a report for transmission, Master,” Obi-Wan offered. “Would you like me to take dictation?” Jan smiled at that, tugging gently at Obi-Wan’s braid. He’d never been so well taken care of as he had since taking on Obi-Wan; when his Padawan became a Knight, Jan wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“That would be a kindness, Padawan mine,” Jan said fondly, and Obi-Wan nodded, standing to grab a datapad. He took down his Master’s report first, carefully transcribing as Dooku spoke. As he dictated, Jan tapped thoughtfully at his chin. When he was finished, Obi-Wan handed over the datapad for any edits Jan might wish to make. While Jan was editing, Obi-Wan wrote his own report, adding detail and elaborating based on the questions his Master had asked. 

They submitted their reports, knowing it might be a few days before they gained a response. The Jedi Council wasn’t always the fastest-acting organization, although the complexity of the situation would hopefully speed their reply. There had been no word a few days later though, when Jan and Obi-Wan looked up sharply in unison from their separate locations in the camp and Galidraan City. Trouble was coming, and the Force was screaming in warning. Obi-Wan excused himself politely from his conversation, slipping away into shadows and then speeding for the True Mandalorian camp. 

About a klick outside of the camp perimeter, Obi-Wan slid to a stop, hurriedly quieting himself and disguising his presence. Mercenaries. No - something more. Darksiders. A chill swept down Obi-Wan’s spine as their outfits registered. Not just Darksiders - Bando Gora. They’d decimated a Jedi transport years back, around the time Obi-Wan was first taken as a Padawan, and become something like bogeymen to all the Younglings in the meantime. 

Master Dooku’s previous Padawan, Obi-Wan knew, had died on that transport, although she’d been on board without permission. Komari’s death still haunted Master Dooku. The presence of Bando Gora assassins could in no way be a good thing, especially as they seemed to be preparing an assault on the True Mandalorian encampment.

// _Master?_ // Obi-Wan sent through their bond, and felt his Master’s attention settle on him. // _One klick out, looks like Bando Gora. They’re digging in ambush positions. It might take me a little longer to get to you._ //

// _Be careful, dear one,_ // Master Dooku responded. // _I’d rather you return to town than take unnecessary risks._ //

// _I belong at your side,_ // Obi-Wan replied firmly, and received a swell of affection and caution in turn. Obi-Wan sent affirmation at that, and drew his own Force presence in close, a trick Master Dooku had taught him fairly recently. Carefully, masking his presence in every way possible, Obi-Wan passed through the line of Bando Gora, noting that their numbers were augmented with commandos in armour marked with Death Watch colours and sigils. Had their transmission been hacked? Obi-Wan wondered, trying to note the strength and positions of the attackers as he moved.

When Obi-Wan finally reached the gate, he was nearly breathless with fear. Taking deep breaths, he paused, acknowledging his fear and its validity, then releasing it into the Force. Pushing his hood back slightly so he could be identified, he nodded at the guard, and was waved through into the camp. Reaching out, Obi-Wan felt for his Master, and walked rapidly to his side. He found Master Dooku with the Mand’alor, Fett deftly buckling on his beskar’gam.

“Death Watch and Bando Gora,” Obi-Wan reported as he entered. “About a klick out, I counted at least fifty of each on the approach from town, and I felt more circling around the other sides of the camp. They seemed to be digging in rather preparing for an immediate attack. Since they didn’t attack as soon as they arrived, I’d guess we have a little time, although I couldn’t say how long.” 

Jango muttered a few choice phrases in Mando’a, then began clipping spare blaster charge packs to his utility belt. Obi-Wan was faintly amused by the almost blasé reaction, and looked to his Master, intending to raise an eyebrow in silent invitation to share amusement. But Master Dooku’s face was a mask of glacial fury, and when Obi-Wan brushed their bond, he could feel the cold anger his Master nursed. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan murmured, going to Master Dooku and taking his large hands, gently rubbing his long, elegant fingers. 

“Dooku?” Fett asked, raising an eyebrow. Their respect for one another had grown over the weeks, and even Force-blind as he was, Jango could feel Dooku’s anger. Fett had never imagined Jedi were capable of the implacable rage Dooku was emanating. 

“Let it go, Master, it will not bring her back,” Obi-Wan gently urged, reaching up to rub his Master’s tensed shoulders. “Let it go.” 

Dooku took a deep, shaking breath, and released his anger. No, Obi-Wan was right, it would not bring his erstwhile Padawan back. And even if it could, she had been lost to him even before her death. Glancing over at Fett, Obi-Wan gave a wry little quirk of the lips at the man’s raised eyebrow. 

“My sister Padawan was killed by the Bando Gora some years ago; they slaughtered a Jedi delegation,” Obi-Wan explained.

“And they still live?” Fett asked somewhat incredulously.

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” Obi-Wan said by rote. Fett’s other eyebrow rose in silent disbelief. “Well, it isn’t supposed to be,” Obi-Wan conceded with a slight smile. 

“It is the Mando way,” Fett said, his voice sliding into a lightly teasing tone, and Obi-Wan looked back to him in surprise. 

“Mand’alor?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You have perhaps saved my people, _jet’ika_ ,” Fett said, the gentleness of his voice belied by a bloodthirsty smile. “For that I would owe you a great debt, and I dislike owing a man a debt. The Bando Gora have made themselves my enemy twice over by hurting your clan, and by hunting mine. They will not long survive.” It was a pragmatic concept, but Obi-Was was touched nevertheless, that the Mand’alor desired to protect their family. He was - something other than touched at the affectionate diminutive, his cheeks heating. _Little Jedi_ , Fett had called him, and it sparked warmth deep inside him that he knew he ought not feed. 

“Revenge may not be a Jedi concept, and Komari - Komari was lost to us before the Bando Gora killed her. But the Jedi they slew deserve justice, and I am grateful, Mand’alor, for your assistance in that matter,” Dooku said, straightening and looking over at Fett. “We came here on duty, Mand’alor. But you and your people have earned my trust, and it is not given lightly. It is clear that at least today, your enemies and ours are the same.” Fett nodded, pleased at the reciprocation of friendship and trust, such as could be found between Jedi and Mando’ade.

“Dear one,” Jan addressed his Padawan, and Obi-Wan looked up at him instantly, affection and obedience lit in his eyes. Jan had to smile at that, and cupped his boy’s cheek. His dear Padawan, who had shown during this mission that he was nearly ready to be a Knight. Jan wasn’t yet ready to let him go though, and so he would spend some time soon, compiling more things to teach Obi-Wan. 

“Make contact with the Council, transmit all our findings at best possible encryption given our limited time and allotted bandwidth, along with a warning of what we face here. We are only two, and we shall do our best against the Bando Gora, but they are not without ability in the Force, and their willingness to work with others on this scale is unprecedented. When the time comes, I leave the Mand’alor’s protection to you.”

Obi-Wan nodded. While they were both more than proficient with their ‘sabers, his Master’s preferred form of Makashi was of greatest effect in one-on-one duels against an opponent also using a lightsaber. Protection required a different style, and while Obi-Wan had studied all of the forms save Vaapad, he had eventually chosen to specialize in Soresu, a defensive, endurance-based style that worked as well against blasters as ‘sabers. It was an ideal form for use in protection. 

“As you will it, my Master. May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan said, hugging his Master and then stepping back and giving a formal bow. 

“Kenobi,” Fett called as Obi-Wan headed for the tent’s entrance. Obi-Wan turned, flushing slightly under the Mand’alor’s dark gaze. The weight of that stare was almost as perceptible as a touch to Obi-Wan, and he swallowed thickly, reminding himself again that Jango Fett had better things to do that put up with mooning Padawans. 

“Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan responded respectfully with a dip of the head. 

“Can you fight in beskar’gam?” Fett asked.

“I have never attempted it,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I have trained in greaves and gauntlets, but I’ve never worn torso armour or a helmet. If it is fitted properly and I have the chance to adjust before we are in battle, I believe it would be worth attempting.”

“Someone will come measure you,” Fett declared, and Obi-Wan nodded, then retreated to contact the Jedi Council as his Master had commanded. It took a while to get everything compiled, and then to compress the files and encrypt them properly. Obi-Wan worked as quickly as he could without making mistakes, knowing time was of the essence. They probably had a little leeway before Death Watch and the Bando Gora attacked, but Obi-Wan did not want to bet the lives of the Mand’alor and his True Mandalorians on that belief. Since beginning their investigations, Obi-Wan had come to wholly believe in the tenets the True Mandalorians espoused, despite knowing it was unwise to develop an opinion on matters of Mandalorian philosophy. As a Jedi investigator, he ought to remain impartial. They were there to resolve matters between the True Mandalorians and the Governor of Galidraan, not intervene in the wider warring of the clans. 

Obi-Wan had just begun transmitting when a team of armourers showed up. Leaving the encoder running, Obi-Wan let them measure his chest and shoulders and neck and spine, and tried on a few pairs of gauntlets, gloves, greaves and other armour pieces. When they left, Obi-Wan was promised a full set of beskar’gam by nightfall. Obi-Wan accepted, then returned to monitoring the uplink. 

Gauntlets and greaves arrived shortly, along with a thermoregulating bodysuit and armourweave flight suit. Obi-Wan shivered as he stripped off his tunics and leggings, then pulled on the bodysuit and flight suit before putting his boots back on. He pulled the greaves and gauntlets on next, then began moving slowly through some of the open-handed training exercises Jedi learned from childhood to determine the range of motion the armour allowed. Plates to protect his thighs and armour for his pelvis arrived next, and Obi-Wan fastened them on, then went back to exercises until they sent his shoulder pauldrons and the plating for his chest, torso, and back.

Obi-Wan was able to move well in the beskar’gam, although the t-slit in the helmet limited his vision somewhat until he figured out how to turn on and utilize the interior heads-up display. He practiced though, both with his ‘saber lit and with open hands, ensuring that he had full range of motion and that the weight of the armour would not slow him. It definitely felt _different_ , but it didn’t feel _wrong_. When he was satisfied the beskar’gam wouldn’t impede his ability to protect the Mand’alor, Obi-Wan returned to his side. 

Fett was fully armed and armoured by then, and standing with his loyal lieutenants in the command tent, conveying his orders. Obi-Wan listened carefully, setting names and positions to memory. Some of the warriors were familiar already, but in the heat of battle, misremembering a name might cost a life, and that was not a risk Obi-Wan was willing to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story uses a lot more Mando’a than I actually know. I got all my Mando’a from mandoa.org and this shared google doc and this translator. I’m sure some of it’s not quite correct, but there’s a limit to what I’ll do for fic reasons.
> 
>  **Mando’a:**  
>  Jet’ika = little Jedi


	2. Chapter 2

The Force called a warning, and Obi-Wan spun, lightsaber flashing up in an azure arc. A vibroblade screeched against his ‘saber, humming discordantly to determine which wielder was stronger. Obi-Wan had never heard of a vibroblade able to counter a plasma or energy weapon, but set his curiosity aside. He shifted, letting his wrist rotate, and the attack deflected away to the side. He spun, lashing out and catching his opponent’s other wrist against the armoured gauntlet of his beskar’gam. As he did, Obi-Wan realized he knew that snarling face, those fierce eyes. Komari. Komari Vosa, who at one point might have been a sister to him. 

“This isn’t you, Komari,” Obi-Wan urged hopefully, but she simply snarled, disengaging and bringing her blade to bear. Before she could attack though, a flare of heat surged past Obi-Wan’s head, and a blaster bolt pierced her neck. Komari fell, dead before she hit the snow-covered ground. Obi-Wan stared in shock a moment before forcing himself to put it aside for later. Her death did not lessen the sense of danger that swirled around them in the Force, and Obi-Wan settled back into guard stance at the Mand’alor’s side, keeping all his senses open. It didn’t take long before he was in motion again, deflecting blaster shots away from the Mand’alor. 

Obi-Wan settled into the Force, letting it alert him to danger and move him where he was needed. The t-slit of the Mando helmet altered his field of vision in ways he wasn’t quite used to, and he wasn’t familiar enough with the HUD to utilize it to its full power, but Obi-Wan did not depend on his eyes to determine danger. He trusted in the Force, and danced in its arms, defending the Mand’alor. The Force sang out, and he twisted to its song, ‘saber sweeping up so quickly it was a band of light. A Death Watch commando fell dead, the ‘saber having bisected the weak point in his beskar’gam between gorget and buy’ce. 

The attack was over inside of an hour, and when his sense of danger faded, Obi-Wan fell back into a slightly looser guard position at the Mand’alor’s shoulder. Bodies lay piled around them three deep and more, Bando Gora and Death Watch alike. There were dead on the True Mandalorian side as well, but not nearly so many. The attack had been dependant on surprise, and Obi-Wan’s warning had tipped the scales in favour of the True Mandalorians. With the Force indicating the danger had passed, Obi-Wan reached up, disengaging the seals on his buy’ce and removing it, breathing in harshly. The air was scented with smoke and death, and Obi-Wan nearly heaved before reining in his instinctive revulsion.

“Mand’alor?” Obi-Wan asked, tucking his buy’ce under his arm and turning to his charge. Fett had removed his buy’ce as well, and grinned ferally at Obi-Wan before crossing to him and embracing him roughly, a gloved, blaster-hot hand cupping Obi-Wan’s head as Jango rested his head against Obi-Wan’s, pressing forehead to forehead and nose to nose. Obi-Wan’s breath stuttered. Obi-Wan accepted the intimacy, treasuring the weight of Jango’s arm around his shoulders, the warmth of his skin and the soft susurration of his breath.

“Ner jet’ika,” Fett murmured affectionately, and Obi-Wan breathed out an affirmation. Yes. Yes, he was Jango Fett’s little Jedi. 

“Gar serim Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan agreed in equally soft, warm tones, speaking his accented Mando’a affirmation of his place with the Mand’alor. Tentatively, he brought up his shaking hands to rest at Jango’s waist. Evidently his appreciation of and affection for the Mand’alor had not only been noticed, it was reciprocated. 

“Bralii!” someone called off to the side, and Jango pulled back slightly, narrowing his eyes. 

“Slana’pir Myles,” Jango called back. “Just for that you get to notify the living.” Myles Cavi - Obi-Wan recognized him as one of Jango’s most trusted friends and his aide-de-camp, now that he’d taken off his helmet - gestured rudely.

“I always notify the living,” Myles reminded, and Jango shrugged.

“Better get about it then, hadn’t you?” Jango said with a pointed look. 

“Is this going to cause trouble?” Obi-Wan asked, gesturing in the narrow space between their chests. Jango huffed.

“Probably,” Jango said, shrugging again. “Teasing from my clan isn’t on the very short list of things that are going to stop me from pursuing you though. Now, let’s go tell your Master Dooku we’ve taken the field, hmm,” Jango suggested, “I doubt the Governor will take the news of this battle well from me.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, flushed and smiling even as he turned his mind back to business. The dead would have to be counted, and he tried to remember the funereal customs of the Mando’ade. It varied by planet and faction, he thought, though many of them, like Jedi, cremated their dead. The armour would be preserved - he recalled reading about armour being passed down in families. There would be a litany too, a listing of the dead and ritual words.

“Komari - she should have a Jedi’s pyre,” Obi-Wan said as they walked at one another’s sides from the battlefield, easily matching pace. His emotions were a tangle as he thought of her; Komari, who could have been his sister; Komari, who he had met for the first time at crossed blades. He would have to meditate on that.

Jango nodded, returned the greetings of his followers. He congratulated them on their continued survival, consoled those who were clearly grieving, and ensured all knew there would be a celebration of life that night after they’d seen to the dead. Survival, Obi-Wan had learned, was always a cause for celebration among the Mando’ade.

“Su cuy’gar,” Dooku greeted in stiff Mando’a when they found him, and Jango gave a thin smile.

“Myles and Silas are putting together a list of the dead on both sides,” Jango said, all business now. “Obi-Wan mentioned one of the Bando Gora - Komari - should be cremated, and that’s our standard practice as well.” 

“I will see to her,” Dooku said gravely. He’d felt her blazing anger in the Force as the Bando Gora attacked - a flare of aggression he knew all too well - and then the sharp pain of her sudden death, far more final than the distant fading he had felt before. “I’m assuming this isn’t the only reason you’ve sought me out?”

“We need to speak to the Governor,” Jango said. “But I doubt he’ll answer a comm from me.” Dooku nodded. 

“I will speak to him on your behalf,” Dooku agreed. “I doubt he’d listen well to my Padawan either, despite that he has the most comprehensive knowledge of the man’s actions.” Obi-Wan huffed at that. Having a baby face was a serious detriment sometimes. Jango nodded. 

“When you’re finished, we will likely have started cremating our dead. The Governor can send his people for the others,” Jango said. Dooku nodded, and led Obi-Wan away. 

“Master?”

“You and the Mand’alor-”

“It does not go against the Code. We have only kissed, and acknowledged we are fond of one another.”

“I am well aware that it does not go against the Code,” Jan said, reaching up to gently squeeze Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and settling for a tap against Obi-Wan’s pauldron. “Neither of you are so subtle in observing one another as you think,” he said fondly. “I wasn’t entirely certain, but I anticipated this some time ago.”

Obi-Wan flushed heatedly at that. He’d thought he’d been quite discreet in his appreciation of the Mand’alor, and hadn’t noticed Jango’s interest at all. Looking back though, he could see how the sheer amount of time they spent together might be telling, and in his memory it seemed now that Jango’s friends had often been smiling and teasing him immediately before Obi-Wan sat at Jango’s side.

“So long as you mind your duty and the will of the Force, there’s no conflict of interest, and you have always been mindful,” Jan continued. “I was merely going to warn you to guard your heart. I would not see you hurt, and our mission here is nearly at an end.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t argue that. Between the evidence they had gathered, and the fact that Death Watch and Bando Gora must have received permission to operate on planet to be there in such numbers, there was no question the Governor had broken his contract with the True Mandalorians. Not only that, the Governor had accused the True Mandalorians falsely, and given the Jedi incomplete information.

In Republic space, they could call in Judicial to arrest someone on evidence such as they had on the Governor of Galidraan. Here, they had no such recourse. The local policing forces were either incompetent or complicit, and the Jedi had no real jurisdiction to clean house. The most they could do was ensure that the accusations against the True Mandalorians were retracted, and the contract was paid out in full so the True Mandalorians could leave Galidraan. 

“I’ll set up the datapad to transmit so you can show him how trapped he is when you comm,” Obi-Wan offered as they crossed the camp.

“Oh?” Dooku asked. “I was thinking he would receive the news much better in person.” Obi-Wan paused, then grinned and shook his head. 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed. It was much easier to intimidate someone into behaving in person after all, especially since Jan was not only a Jedi, but rather physically imposing. It wasn’t something the older Jedi depended on, but being at the upper range for human height worked in his favour at times. 

Jan and Obi-Wan walked into the capital, striding up the wide front steps of the Governor’s castle. The administrative assistant at the front desk blanched, hurriedly tapping at their comm device. Obi-Wan bit back a grim smile as his Master loomed ominously over the assistant. 

“He’ll be with you momentarily,” the assistant promised. Dooku merely raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything as they were shown into the Governor’s office. It was clear the man had done well for himself - the furnishings gleamed, and the carpet on the floor likely cost more than the average citizen of Galidraan made in a year. 

“Governor,” Dooku greeted when the man bustled in, flushed and sweating. The Governor gulped, and dropped awkwardly into his chair. Dooku smiled, far too wide for the expression to be anything but a threat. He produced his pad and activated the holoemitter, almost idly flicking through the array of files Obi-Wan had sliced. The Governor swallowed again, understanding dawning. “The criminals known as Bando Gora attacked the True Mandalorian camp,” Dooku said blandly, as if commenting on the weather. He paused in his scrolling through the files, showing a list of communiques between the Governor and Tor Vizsla, the head of Death Watch. “There were Death Watch partisans with them.”

“I see,” the Governor said thinly. “I - I appreciate their - the dedication of the True Mandalorians, in seeing these terrorists couldn’t harm the citizenry. I am - I am certain they are wanting to return home though. The - the transfer of credits will be completed shortly.”

“Hmm,” Dooku said, and tapped the screen of the ‘pad, shutting it off. “They have begun seeing to their own dead. I’m sure the local morgue can handle the remains of Death Watch and Bando Gora?”

The Governor nodded, clearly eager to have them gone. Obi-Wan didn’t blame him. Dooku had a way of looking at a being that made them feel every wrong done in the universe was entirely their fault. 

“And you aren’t looking well yourself,” Dooku said.

“No I - I think it would be best for me to step down,” the Governor agreed. “Must look after one’s health, yes?” Dooku dipped his head, a ghost of that fierce smile playing across his features. 

“Just so,” Dooku agreed. “Thank you so much for seeing us with such expedience. I’m sure all will shortly be resolved.” The Governor nodded, and Dooku rose. Obi-Wan stood with him, and they left the castle. 

“Do you think he’ll follow through?” Obi-Wan asked when they had left the city. 

“I think if he doesn’t, I’ll just go back until he does,” Jan said, and Obi-Wan nodded. 

When they returned to the camp, Obi-Wan accompanied his Master to the command tent. There they found Jango delegating tasks to his various officers. Myles and Silas Khel, Jango’s second in command and best friend, were accounting for the dead, others were beginning to break down the camp and prepare to travel. He had the flight control officer of their cruiser on standby, ready to deploy dropships to begin loading their cargo and personnel as soon as the Governor paid the debt he owed them. Jango looked up as they approached.

“All accusations have been recanted, although I know that does little for your long term reputation,” Dooku said. “Payment should be forthcoming, and they will see to the Death Watch and Bando Gora dead.” Jango nodded, opening a new window on his datasuite and checking the company accounts. His shoulders dropped slightly, releasing tension as he saw the large deposit that had been made - larger even than the contracted amount.

“You have my thanks,” Jango said. “See to your dead. Tonight, we will remember them.” He paused, then straightened slightly. “I am sure you’ll say it was only your duty, but what you two have done here will not be forgotten. You’re mandokar, and you deserve to be named Mando’ad for your part in defending us, both today and over the past tens. I have seen you fight now, and know your measure. You are Mando’ade in my view, and I would have that recognized.” 

Obi-Wan traded a look with Dooku. Jedi were not forbidden from accepting small gifts of thanks, but this was no small gift. It would align them with the True Mandalorians, eliminating any notion of their impartiality. They would be unable to intervene as outsiders in Mando space, their clan association instead making them representatives of the True Mandalorians as well as the Jedi Order. Given how rarely Jedi intervention was requested in Mando space, it was unlikely to be an issue there. The Jedi High Council would likely be displeased, but Obi-Wan knew at least some other Jedi maintained clan ties to their native cultural groups outside the Order, so it clearly wasn’t against the rules - just not encouraged.

“Normally I would refuse such an acknowledgement strenuously,” Dooku admitted. “But today I can only accept that our enemies have been the same, and that you and your clan have given me justice that the Republic would not. I am honoured to count myself a True Mandalorian.” 

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'liit, Jan Dooku, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Jango said, acknowledging them as clan, although without any specific familial ties. The Jedi dipped their heads in acknowledgement and acceptance, Obi-Wan raising his hand to his chest in the salute he’d seen the Supercommandos give to Jango as a sign of respect.

“I would see to Komari now,” Dooku said, and Jango nodded. 

“The crematorium is running; I don’t know your practices,” Jango said. Dooku dipped his head.

“It is appreciated.” 

The two Jedi exited the tent, and passed back through the bustling encampment. Back on the field of battle, they found Komari’s body where it had fallen. Dooku folded in on himself, kneeling in the muck and gently closing Komari’s wide, shocked eyes. He shrugged out of his cloak and gently rolled her body into the dark fabric, then rose, lifting her with him. Obi-Wan steadied the older Jedi, leading him towards the heavy smoke on the outskirts of the camp.

As they walked, Obi-Wan noted that most of the bodies remaining on the field were either Bando Gora or Death Watch, the True Mandalorians having already claimed most of their dead. A few True Mandalorians were still walking through the field to ensure that none of their clan were left there, and others were starting to move the other dead so they could be easily carted away by the locals. Others, like Jan, carried bodies toward the smoke plume. 

Silas, one of Jango’s close friends and trusted lieutenants, stood at the side of an incinerator approximately the size of a small star ship. Around him, Mando’ade gently removed the armour of their loved ones for the last time. There was little other ceremony to the preparation of the dead for cremation, beyond that - ceremony would come later. Silas noted down the names as the dead were incinerated, and later those names would be commemorated. 

“Her suffering is ended now,” Dooku said gruffly as Komari’s body disappeared inside the crematorium. “She is one with the Force.” 

Obi-Wan dipped his head, having nothing to add. They gathered the ashes at the other end of the incinerator, to be brought back to the Temple and entombed there with the other Jedi dead. Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure how Dooku planned to pull that off, but was confident it would happen. She would likely be remembered by most as a lost Padawan, killed by pirates years before her actual death, mourned for what she had once been, and that lost potential.

The two Jedi spent the rest of the day seeing to their own anticipated departure. Obi-Wan reviewed the comm traffic, while Jan saw to the packing of their few belongings. Their report had been received, as well as their warning, and the Council required more information. Their mission was being extended though, to fully investigate Death Watch and their connection to Bando Gora, and also to try and negotiate a truce for the Mandalore system and diaspora. With their success here at Galidraan, there was hope that the True Mandalorian and New Mandalorian factions could be brought to some sort of agreement. 

Exposing Death Watch and jailing their more militant members would likely go a great distance toward establishing peace. The True Mandalorians, while they had little respect for the New Mandalorians, also weren’t inclined to hunt down and exterminate the pacifist faction. Nor were the New Mandalorians going to wage war against the True Mandalorians, as it went against their beliefs. The New Mandalorian leader Satine Kryze was likely to denounce Mand’alor Fett loudly and often, and Fett would likely return the favour. That, though, was politics everywhere.

According to the newly expanded mission parameters, Duchess Kryze, two years Obi-Wan’s senior, would meet with the Mand’alor in a few weeks time. She of course did not recognize Jango as Mand’alor, as her own faction had mantled her with that title. Hopefully, Obi-Wan thought, he and Dooku would have arrested the worst of the Death Watch by then; the staunch traditionalists of that faction had been hunting not only Jango but also the Duchess. She had been in hiding for nearly a year, along with her Jedi protector. 

If there was to be trouble, Obi-Wan had a feeling it would come from said Jedi protector, Master Jinn. Despite Master Yoda’s long ago insistence, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jinn had not worked out as a Master-Padawan team. If it wasn’t for Master Dooku, Obi-Wan would be a farmer with the AgriCorps now, not a Padawan. His then Grandmaster had stepped up to give Obi-Wan his second, or perhaps third, chance after Melida/Daan, and Obi-Wan would never forget that. While Obi-Wan’s path rarely crossed that of Master Jinn, when it did his once-Master was cold and almost rude to Obi-Wan and Dooku both, and while Dooku might not show it, Obi-Wan knew that distance hurt his Master. 

After reading thoroughly through the briefing, Obi-Wan continued through their messages. There wasn’t much else, just the automatic replies that noted their report had been received and reviewed by the Council. Downloading the new mission brief to a datapad, Obi-Wan rose and glanced over at his Master. Dooku had finished their packing, and was meditating, his long silver hair loose around his shoulders. Obi-Wan placed the pad where it would be immediately noticed, then settled on his knees to meditate himself.

Obi-Wan focused his meditation at first on Komari and her death. Hers was not the first death he had witnessed at such close quarters, and she had been trying to kill him. He acknowledged his gratitude, that he continued to live, and his grief, that she did not. Before, when they thought her killed by Bando Gora, they assumed that she died trying to save others on her transport. Obi-Wan could not and would not assume responsibility for the acts she had likely committed while with the Bando Gora. But he could and would mourn that she had died with her promise as a Jedi not only unfulfilled, but abdicated. 

When the tangle of emotion centered on Komari faded into a peaceful acceptance, Obi-Wan turned his mind to Jango, and to what Dooku had said on the matter. Love was not anathema to the Jedi, and Obi-Wan did not think what he felt yet qualified as love. Attraction, definitely. And respect. Fondness. Curiosity. None of those feelings endangered a Jedi. Attachment - possessive and obsessive feelings, seeking to control another sentient - that was what was forbidden. That was what invited the Dark Side of the Force. Obi-Wan felt safe that what he felt was not attachment - and he doubted Jango would be anything like receptive of such emotions.

The thought brought Obi-Wan sharply out of his meditation. No, Jango would have no patience with someone who tried to restrict or control him. And Obi-Wan doubted Jango would respect a partner - a being - who allowed such from him. The Council probably wouldn’t _like_ Obi-Wan’s fondness for Jango, the curiosity and attraction between them, but they could disapprove all they liked - they could not forbid him from emotion. Well, Obi-Wan corrected himself. They could try. One of the translations of the Code ran _there is no emotion, there is peace_. But that was not the Order’s doctrine, more a philosophical point to be argued until one had a headache. 

Dooku was of the _emotion, yet peace_ school of thought, and had taught Obi-Wan in that vein. So no, the Council might not like it - but it wouldn’t see Obi-Wan thrown out of the Order either. Satisfied, Obi-Wan nodded to Dooku, who was reading the pad, then left the tent.

The shadows had lengthened outside, and the scent of woodsmoke was heavy in the air. Much of the camp had been packed away, and at the opened out center of the space, a massive bonfire was lit. Commandos passed around alcohol and food, and now for the first time Obi-Wan saw younger beings - non-combatants - wandering about. It was an unexpected show of trust, and acknowledgement that Jan and Obi-Wan were now True Mandalorians. 

_Haat Mando’ade_ , Obi-Wan reminded himself, not True Mandalorian. The meaning was the same, but the Mando’a version of the faction’s name was preferred by all those who proclaimed Jango their Mand’alor. Use - and preservation - of the Mando’a language was an integral part of the Resol’nare - the guidelines of Mando culture honoured by Jaster Mereel and his followers. To continue calling the clan True Mandalorians instead of Haat Mando’ade would only show himself as an outsider.

Obi-Wan accepted a shot of tihaar - the fruity alcohol popular among the Mando’ade - tossing it back and accepting the following clap on the back. As he accepted a bowl of stewed - something - he noticed Dooku had arrived as well. Obi-Wan found his way to his Master’s side just in time to see the older Jedi toss back a shot himself, then blink back tears at the strength of the alcohol. The commando at Dooku’s side laughed and patted his arm. Dooku just shook his head with a bemused smile. 

When full darkness had fallen, Jango stood from where he’d been hidden among the gathered Mando’ade. The others all fell silent, the atmosphere growing solemn. Jango reached out, and a pad was placed in his hand. 

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Jango said, his voice strong in the stillness. 

“Ni partayli, gar darasuum,” the Mando standing at Obi-Wan’s side echoed quietly. He could hear the words echoed by others too, their own personal remembrance of those lost. _I remember you, so you are eternal_ , Obi-Wan mentally translated. It wasn’t terribly unlike the Jedi concept of becoming one with the Force, and existing forever in that ineffable energy - another parallel between the two cultures. At the center of the gathering, Jango was reading the names of the dead. Soft cries and sharp sobs rose and fell from the crowd as they heard their loved ones honoured. “Ni partayli,” the Mando beside him murmured again when one particular name was called, reaching up to touch their torso armour over their heart.

“I also welcome two new members of the clan,” Jango said when the litany had ended, and a long moment of remembrance had been observed. “The Jedi Jan Dooku and Obi-Wan Kenobi fought with us today, their enemies and ours the same. They have shown qualities of honour and courage I would be proud to see in any Mando’ad. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'liit Jan Dooku, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he finished, echoing his earlier adoption of the two Jedi as clan. Obi-Wan almost immediately received a rough clap on the back, and the offer of another shot of alcohol. 

There were a few shouts of congratulation as the mass of Mando’ade broke into smaller groups. A small number split off, heading into the shadows. Some went to mourn a little longer in private. Others took up patrolling. The watches still needed to be maintained, and the perimeter closely monitored.

Among those remaining by the fires, alcohol began to flow freely, groups of commandos gathering to tell tales of those they had lost, both that day and in other battles. Some stories were humourous, others clearly embellished with improbable feats. Obi-Wan and Jan were welcomed by one and all though, and began to better know more of their new clan. From the chatter, the Jedi learned that Tor Vizsla, the leader of Death Watch, had been found among the enemy dead, as were some of his more infamous lieutenants. Their deaths would either incite further violence or quiet Death Watch while they decided their next move, and no one could agree which was more probable.

The celebrations lasted until dawn began to pink on the horizon. Dooku turned in first, while Obi-Wan spent some time alone with Jango, talking quietly and trading a few shy kisses. By the time Obi-Wan staggered off to bed, everyone in the camp knew he was their Mand’alor’s chosen. Obi-Wan knew his Master would likely have something more to say about the budding romance, but he also knew Dooku would let him make his own mistakes.

In their tent, Obi-Wan clumsily stripped off his beskar’gam, realizing now it was quite the courting gift from Jango. While unpainted at the moment, he had a feeling he’d soon be sporting a few shield-and-banners Haat Mando’ade sigils, if not the mythosaur mark of the Mand’alor himself. The prospect had him almost giddy. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and slept until well after his usual hour of awakening.

When the camp woke, the Haat Mando’ade began dispersing. Many of them formed a core group of followers devoted to Jango. This band soon removed themselves from Galidraan to their cruiser, the _Daybreaker_. They acted as a mercenary company under Jango’s command, while the other Haat Mando’ade Supercommandos, who had families and other obligations off the battlefield, acted as their reserve fighters.

Obi-Wan and Master Dooku were invited to be Jango’s guests on board the _Daybreaker_ , the mobile base of the mercenary company, as they were part of the Haat Mando’ade family now. Despite their wishes otherwise though, the Jedi refused the offer, taking rooms in the capital on Galidraan while they continued their mission of uncovering the corruption there, and helping the locals assemble a working government in the Governor’s absence. 

Over the next few tens, members of Death Watch were arrested and charges were brought against them. The temporary ruling council was still debating what exactly should happen to the former Governor of Galidraan, but it was likely he too would face trial. Elections would be held before the Jedi left Galidraan, and no one in the old government would keep their positions. The temporary council had contracted a number of Haat Mando’ade to remain as security until new Journeyman Protectors could be elected from the populace to keep the peace and police the citizenry.

When elections had been held, and the results ratified, Dooku and Obi-Wan arranged for the conference between Jango and Duchess Kryze. After some back and forth, it was decided the parties would meet on Mandalore itself, in the old capital of Keldabe. There, the Oyu’baat Hotel was the traditional meeting place of the Mand’alor and clan leaders.

The New Mandalorian stronghold of Sundari had been offered as a site for their talks, but Jango had immediately refused. While he didn’t fear entering the pacifists’ city, he didn’t trust their security either. He had countered with Keldabe, citing the rich history of the clans peacefully coming together there to resolve their differences.

Once the decision on location had been reached, the Jedi took a public transport ship to Keldabe. Upon their arrival at the Oyu’baat, the Jedi learned that Jango had already arranged for Jan and Obi-Wan to join him in a palatial suite, usually reserved for the Mand’alor himself. Myles and Silas too would be sleeping in the suite, and many of their compatriots would be filling the other rooms of the hotel.

The Duchess had not yet arrived when Dooku and Obi-Wan did, but then, they had planned to be in Keldabe before her. Jinn had given a range of dates when he expected to arrive with his charge, but nothing definite. Their actual travel plans were shared with no one, to ensure they were harder to track. With Jango’s clan securing the hotel, and Dooku seeing to preparations for the talks between Jango and the Duchess, Obi-Wan and Jango were free to spend some time getting to know one another better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Bralii = (you) succeed, from bralir, v. to get the upper hand, to succeed  
> Gar serim = Yes, you're right. / That's it.  
> Mandokar = the ‘right stuff’  
> Ner jet’ika = my little Jedi  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'liit = I know your name as my clan  
> Ni partayli, gar darasuum = I remember you, so you are eternal  
> Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum = Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.* Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.  
> Slana’pir = Get out! get lost! (very impolite)  
> Su cuy’gar = hello (lit. “you’re still alive”)  
> Tihaar = alcoholic drink - strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie


	3. Chapter 3

As they awaited the arrival of Duchess Kryze and her Jedi protector, Jango escorted Obi-Wan on daily walks through Keldabe. Both wore their full armour, as many Mando’ade did in Keldabe, and as none of the locals knew them by their armour, it kept them anonymous. Via private comm channel, they conversed as they walked, at first just light observations about the city and people around them. They walked along the banks of the Kelita river, watching boats ply up and down the waterway. Barges brought unrefined ore down from the distant mountains to be smelted into beskar, and smaller craft hauled in fish for eating fresh or drying into gihaal. 

For mid meal Jango bought them filets that had been skewered and seared, with a bright, distinct flavour Jango called dralurum. The spice made Obi-Wan’s eyes water, but it was all but inescapable. The trick, he soon learned, was in eating some of the sweet yoghurt easily found on street vendors’ carts. ‘Hot’ seemed to simply be the local flavour, and while it wasn’t what Obi-Wan was used to, he had eaten far stranger things in his travels.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but to stare a bit when they sat on a nearby bench to eat their seared fish. While he had known in theory that the Mando were a culture, not an individual race, he still hadn’t expected to see so much diversity in Keldabe. The Haat Mando’ade included at least a dozen species other than human in their ranks, but he’d somehow not realized they were actually more limited in their make-up than the general population on Mandalore, as some species didn’t incorporate well into space-faring organizations.

Around the fish-sellers’ cart though, Obi-Wan could easily identify at least ten species, and there were yet more he didn’t recognize. At the cart, the vendor called a greeting, and Obi-Wan saw now that while they were clearly Twi’lek, they were likely a hybrid, as their skin was a darker brown than the orangey shade prevalent on Ryloth and in the Twi’lek diaspora, and their lekku were quite short for a well-fed adult Twi’lek.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” Jango asked, then took a bite of his fish. 

“Correcting a mental mistake,” Obi-Wan said with a slight smile. “Despite reading how many species made up the Mando culture, the images in the references always show either full beskar’gam complete with helmets, or human faces. I hadn’t realized how much of that I’d internalized until just now. But just on this random little corner with a food cart - it’s just as mixed as the Temple refectory at meal time.”

“I should hope so, given my family tree,” Jango said with a smile. Obi-Wan widened his eyes curiously. “What I remember - which probably isn’t everything - is that while many Mando’ade _appear_ human, most of us born in the culture are hybrids that prove humans will bed - and breed with - just about anyone. From what I remember, I have Twi’lek, Cathar, Zabrak and Taung ancestry, although claiming Taung ancestry is just a way of claiming your entire family has been Mando since the beginning of time. The human genes just tend to be dominant.”

“You’re very lucky I’m not interested in genetics research, or I’d be asking for a blood sample,” Obi-Wan said, and Jango smiled. 

“Bet you never knew you had such exotic tastes,” Jango teased. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Not sure it counts if you look like a galactic-standard human,” Obi-Wan rejoined, and Jango shrugged, still smiling. “Any special advantages?” Obi-Wan had to ask after a moment. 

“You mean other than this handsome face?” Jango said with a laugh. Obi-Wan snorted, then tossed one of his emptied skewers at Jango’s admittedly very handsome face. Jango batted the projectile aside, and they talked a little longer about the people who had settled on Mandalore, back to the time of the ancient Taung who had colonized the wild planet, founded the Mando culture, and then gone on to conquer the entire sector.

Jango told Obi-Wan about the planets in the sector as only one who had visited them could. They compared the places they had been, the things they had seen. As they talked, the subjects grew closer to their hearts. Eventually, Obi-Wan talked a little about his life as a Jedi, about almost leaving - and actually leaving - the Order, and how those trials had deepened his faith in the Force. They talked about their pasts, and the futures they wanted for themselves and their people.

Jango and Obi-Wan walked in comfortable silence at times too, content to simply spend time together before duty called once more. The quiet didn’t feel awkward between them, neither man feeling compelled to conversation. When they wanted to talk though, they did, and breaking the silence between them was easy, as if picking up a thread that had simply been allowed to go slack rather than drop.

They were not entirely without duties while they awaited the Duchess. Both of them were in frequent comm contact, Obi-Wan with Dooku and the Temple, Jango with his people, both in Keldabe and elsewhere. Both organizations were still keeping their eyes open for Death Watch, and ensuring the security of the Oyu’baat and surroundings in preparation for the coming summit between the leaders of the New Mandalorian and Haat Mando’ade factions.

The third day Obi-Wan was in Keldabe was one of the biweekly market days, stalls springing up in the large square in front of the Oyu’baat and along the famed Chortav Meshurkaane. Jango escorted Obi-Wan among the stalls, stopping and talking with nearly everyone they passed. Everyone, it seemed, knew and respected the Mand’alor. By the time they returned to the Oyu’baat, Obi-Wan had several new gifts, as much due to Jango’s inability to say ‘no’ to the shopkeepers as Obi-Wan’s inability to refuse his Mand’alor. A few at least, Obi-Wan was able to pass on to his Master; after all, Dooku needed hair clasps far more than Obi-Wan did. 

By the time the Duchess arrived with her protector, Obi-Wan had developed a much greater proficiency with Mando’a and a taste for the Oyu’baat’s thick ne’tra gal, or black ale. While Obi-Wan usually preferred hard liquors to beer, the Oyu’baat’s ne’tra gal was delicious. He liked it much better than the popular local liquors, Mandallian Narcolethe, which tasted more or less like jet fuel, and tihaar, which varied widely in flavour and quality, or the second most popular beer, kri’gee, which was utterly foul stuff in Obi-Wan’s opinion. 

The night the Duchess arrived, Obi-Wan polished Jango’s beskar’gam, much to Jango’s bemusement. Obi-Wan had done his research about Mando customs though. Jango, as the more established of them, courted Obi-Wan by gifting him things. Obi-Wan’s reciprocation came in caring for Jango and his possessions, polishing his armour and checking over his weapons. The summit would start the next day, and Obi-Wan had begun to understand how very visual the Mando culture was. Presenting themselves well would be important.

For the meeting between the Duchess and the Mand’alor, Obi-Wan had determined it was best to be as outwardly Jedi as possible. So he had laundered the good set of tunics and tabards from his pack, and polished his boots until they gleamed. A good first impression was unlikely since he would be at Jango’s side, but it never hurt to make an effort.

In the morning, Obi-Wan dressed with utmost care. He helped his Master dress his long silver hair back from his sharp face in a neat topknot, not particularly because Dooku needed help, but because he knew the older man appreciated that quiet show of affection. In turn, Dooku neatened Obi-Wan’s trailing Padawan braid. Dooku wore his usual deep brown uniform, and Obi-Wan took advantage of the opportunity to wear the more formal Padawan whites - the traditional undyed cotton uniform typically worn in-Temple - which he preferred to the heavier beige hemp tunics that were more practical for fieldwork.

Satisfied with his own presentation, Obi-Wan knocked at the door of Jango’s bedroom, and entered when Jango invited him in. As Obi-Wan walked in, Jango shouldered on his undersuit, then his flight suit with the leg armour already attached. Obi-Wan lifted the leather harness with its attached plates of armour, arranging it over Jango’s chest as Jango stepped into his steel-toed boots. Kneeling, Obi-Wan shot a cheeky smile up at Jango, then buckled on the codpiece, then the utility belt and attached holsters. 

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Jango said, a laugh in his voice.

“Oh, I know, but isn’t this much more fun?” Obi-Wan returned, and Jango chuckled, sliding on his gauntlets and wiggling his fingers in the gloves as Obi-Wan tied down Jango’s holsters. Standing, Obi-Wan took a step back, running an appraising gaze over Jango. Fully armoured, and fully armed - even as Obi-Wan watched, Jango double checked his blasters and slid them into his holsters. He was fully dressed for battle - even if their conflict would be with words.

“Acceptable?” Jango asked. 

“Better than,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, then opened the door and let Jango precede him from the room, out to where Dooku was waiting in the common area of the suite. Together, they went down to the ground level of the hotel, where a conference room was reserved for the talks. 

“Mister Fett,” the Duchess greeted when they met in the corridor outside the conference room. Jango nodded, ignoring the slight. 

“Your Grace,” Jango said, likewise refusing her the title of Mand’alor. 

“My advisor, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Duchess Kryze introduced, sweeping her hand to indicate the tall Jedi. Long brown hair just beginning to silver at the temples swept past broad shoulders encased in the usual beige tunics and tabards, although he wore dark brown breeches. He was placid, but - slightly frazzled, Obi-Wan thought. Not entirely unexpected given Kryze had been on the run for months under his protection. 

“My advisor, Jedi Master Jan Dooku, and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Jango introduced in turn.

When he was introduced, Obi-Wan stepped forward and bowed over the Duchess’ hand as protocol required, brushing her thin knuckles with dry lips. He had bowed to Master Jinn as well, although the older Jedi hadn’t returned the motion of respect. The Duchess at least smiled a little at the polite gesture, although the expression was tense and false. She was uneasy, Obi-Wan could see, although she disguised it well. But then, Death Watch had been hunting her for nearly a year. It wasn’t paranoia if someone was really out to get you.

Once the introductions were made, Obi-Wan led them to the reserved room, bowing them in and holding a chair for the Duchess, then serving them tea. Master Dooku had begun training Obi-Wan in the more formal tea ceremonies early in their partnership, and Obi-Wan loved the ritual and significance of each step. He used the graceful gestures and fluid motions indicative of desire for peace and prosperity, serving the Duchess and her protector first, then Jango and his Master, before finally sitting at Master Dooku’s side with his own cup. A wave of warm approval washed through their bond, nearly causing Obi-Wan to blush. 

Tense posturing began the negotiations. Jango conceded to being addressed as ‘Fett,’ with no title. The Duchess, with a little more arguing, eventually conceded to being addressed as Satine. She was haughty, Obi-Wan thought after watching her for an hour or so. Perhaps not undeservedly - she was the undisputed leader of the New Mandalorian faction, and a strident voice for peace. She was also, Obi-Wan decided after watching even longer, terrified. But that too was unsurprising. Her family had been decimated; she, her younger sister, and her infant nephew were all that remained of the once populous House Kryze.

The opening talks dragged late into the evening. At midday and again at dusk Obi-Wan quietly excused himself and brought their meals in from the kitchen, serving the elder Jedi and their charges himself. Jango thanked him with a soft smile and a brush of gloved fingers across the back of Obi-Wan’s hand, while Master Dooku thanked him with a burst of warm affection through their bond. Jinn acted as if Obi-Wan were a serving droid rather than a sentient being, and the Duchess sniffed down her nose. Obi-Wan wondered what Jinn had told her to give Duchess Satine such a low opinion of him. Master Dooku forced a recess for the day as the hour grew late, sending his former Padawan an unamused glare. Jinn ignored that as well. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a flash of dislike for his former Master. While he would accept any rudeness toward himself as his due for disagreeing with Jinn and parting his company to help the Young of Melida / Daan, the disrespect to their shared Master was unconscionable to Obi-Wan. Master Dooku was a superb teacher, and one of the most respected Masters in the Order. He had served more than one term as a temporary member of the High Council, and Obi-Wan knew he was under consideration for a longer term in their governing body. It utterly baffled Obi-Wan that Jinn would so disrespect the man who had raised and trained him.

A second late meal that night was taken in their suite, Myles and Silas joining them so Jango could give them a general overview of what had been discussed that day with the Duchess. They discussed the business of the clan as well, and goings-on in the wider galaxy. There were always conflicts flaring up somewhere, and for someone whose business was security, it was important for Jango to know the relevant facts. 

Myles and Silas retired to their rooms after a mug of shig to close the meal, and Jango went to strip off his armour and shower. Obi-Wan put the trays out in the hall for the staff, then joined his Master, who had begun his meditations. They came out of their communion with the Force almost in unison, and Obi-Wan poured them each another mug of shig from the suite’s kettle. 

They were still sipping when Jango padded out, damp and dressed only in soft, loose sleep pants. Obi-Wan watched over the top of his mug as Jango helped himself to the shig. Jango didn’t sit, just stood watching the two Jedi for a long moment. Obi-Wan cocked his head in question.

“Come to bed,” Jango suggested, eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. “Tomorrow’s going to be just as long as today’s been.” Obi-Wan flushed. Although he’d thought himself in love when he’d fought alongside Cerasi on Melida/Daan as a young teenager, Obi-Wan was largely inexperienced, having been kept rather busy trailing Dooku around the Outer Rim since he was fifteen. He’d kissed his fellow Padawan Siri Tachi a few times, and slept at her side, buried his head between her legs, and the same with Quinlan Vos, but it had never gone further, and as both Siri and Quinlan were Jedi, they both maintained a certain emotional distance in deference to their teachings. 

“He’s not wrong, we should get our rest,” Dooku said mildly, clasping his hand on Obi-Wan’s knee as he rose. Obi-Wan gaped momentarily at Dooku as the older Jedi deposited his mug in the sink, and Jango huffed a quiet breath of amusement. 

“Are you - really?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice only squeaking a little. 

“I doubt neither your intentions nor your age,” Dooku said. “If he tries anything you don’t want, you know how to use a lightsaber.” Obi-Wan sputtered, and Dooku smiled at Jango with entirely too many teeth. Jango held up his hands in the universal signal of peace, smiling slightly himself. 

“I ought to sleep in my own bed just since you asked while my Master was sitting right next to me,” Obi-Wan huffed finally. Jango shrugged, then finished his shig and put his mug in the sink. 

“The invitation stands,” Jango said simply. “Nothing happens that you don’t want.” With that, he returned to his room. Dooku watched Obi-Wan for a long moment. 

“I trust you,” Dooku said simply, and went into his room, leaving Obi-Wan alone. 

Obi-Wan huffed again, and had another mug of shig. He took his time drinking it, then went to the fresher, washed up, and changed into his sleep tunic and pants. With a final huff, he crossed to Jango’s room, and climbed into the bed. 

Jango greeted him with a quiet grunt, reaching out, but again leaving their closeness up to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan took Jango’s hand, but didn’t shift any closer. He was unused to sharing a bed, and wasn’t sure how comfortable he’d be if they were nestled close.

* * *

In the morning, Obi-Wan woke as usual at dawn, but for the first time, that morning he woke with Jango’s arm around him. They had held one another over the past days, and kissed, but this, waking wrapped in Jango’s strength, smelling his warm, clean scent - it was intoxicating. Obi-Wan turned into Jango and softly kissed him awake. Jango kissed back sleepily, nuzzling gently against Obi-Wan

“Su cuy’gar, ner jet’ika,” Jango greeted in his low, rumbling voice. 

“Gar balyc, ner Mand’alor” Obi-Wan responded with a smile. “I need to attend to my Master.”

“Lek, cyar’ika,” Jango murmured, and let Obi-Wan slip from the bed. Obi-Wan flushed, leaning down to kiss Jango’s cheek, and then he went through his morning routine, washing up and dressing, and preparing his Master’s things. A serving droid brought first meal from the kitchen below, delicate crepes with various sweet and savoury fillings. Obi-Wan knelt at the low table, preparing their food and reading over the comm traffic, pouring a strongly scented blend of shig imported from Concord Dawn for all three of them.

Having been the first at the table, Obi-Wan was the first one done, and he used the time while the others were eating to meditate briefly. When they finished, Jango returned to the negotiating table with Jan and Obi-Wan flanking him. Myles and Silas returned to the business of the clan, vetting prospective contracts, maintaining their equipment, and training the Supercommandos at a local drill deck.

Negotiations moved slowly. While they were in the meeting room, the talks were interminable. First, Jango and Satine had to agree that their people were one and the same, not Haat Mando’ade and New Mandalorians, but Mando one and all. Once there was a certain amount of trust and that initial agreement was reached, Jango and Satine had to work item by item through the extensive bureaucracy of the current failed government. Department by department and region by region, they worked through the jurisdictional issues. Before they even started working on the division of duties, they argued over whose maps to use, which economic or demographic data was most accurate, what geological survey or hyperlane coordinates were objectively best. 

They would hammer away at a single paragraph for an hour or two, then send the text to their advisors for revisions. Their advisors often suggested ‘corrections’ with diametrically opposite definitions or outcomes, and more than once either Dooku or Jinn called a recess for a few hours to let the two Mando cool their heads a bit. Given the nature of Mando tempers, even agreeing on the correct name of a province could take three sessions, over two days, with all the attendant corrections and commentary from their aides and counselors.

In the evenings though, Obi-Wan almost didn’t mind that the summit was dragging on day after day. Jango took him out into Keldabe after the talks had adjourned most nights, leading him through the narrow, winding streets and showing him the quiet little tapcafes, or taking him to rousing performances of traditional Mando dancing and singing, with audience participation encouraged. When there was partnered dancing, Jango would whirl Obi-Wan into his arms, and Obi-Wan grinned, following to the best of his ability, trusting Jango to lead him.

The summit itself was fodder for speculation in both local and galactic holonews, as the clans had been warring for years. The prospect of peace was alluring, even to the more martially-minded of the Mando’ade, and stability in the sector would bring outside trade that would benefit everyone. Most of the local journalists respectfully kept their distance from Jango’s personal life, although more than one New Mandalorian-aligned station had speculated about the fact that one of the Jedi mediators was often seen out and about with Jango. There were thankfully no images - the locals took a certain pleasure in using the off-worlder’s drones for target practice.

Jango had a bland statement published on the subject, acknowledging that the Jedi at his side were members of the clan, but also attesting to their integrity. He also pointed out that while they were clan now, they’d known one another for a matter of months. If anyone’s impartiality was to be questioned, why wasn’t it the Jedi who had been living hand-in-pocket with the Duchess for a year? Some speculation had followed, but eventually other topics drew the reporters’ attentions, and it was assumed by those unable to see them together that the Jedi accompanying Jango was his protection, rather than his companion. 

Obi-Wan was more than a little pleased to be out of the spotlight once that speculation passed, although thankfully he hadn’t been identified by name. It made their evening excursions into town much more enjoyable when he didn’t have to worry about who might see them ducking into a shadowy alcove to share a kiss.

Some nights when they returned to the suite, Dooku was still awake, reading or meditating before turning in. Obi-Wan always blushed heatedly at his Master’s knowing look, but Dooku would just smile, and when they meditated together Obi-Wan could feel his Master’s quiet pride, in both him and in Jango. It made Obi-Wan warm with affection every time, touched at his Master’s trust that he could become close to Jango without risking attachment.

In a way, though, Jango’s position made attachment almost a non-issue. They were both aware they had duties and obligations to others, and while they treasured one another’s company, they both knew there would be long separations and times when their responsibilities had them at odds. Jango would be Mand’alor until death, because he would die before dishonouring his title and clan. Likewise, Obi-Wan would always be a Jedi. But they could be those things - Jedi and Mand’alor - and still love one another, despite the historical antipathy between their peoples. 

That ability to separate duty and affection was tested in the second month of negotiations, when Death Watch attacked Keldabe. Pre Vizsla, the son of the previous leader of Death Watch, had taken up his father’s mantle, and led what remained of their cadre in a near suicidal attack on the city. Even those not affiliated with the Haat Mando’ade were more than willing to suit up in defense of their home. The hardest part of the defense was getting everyone communicating on the correct frequencies so they could coordinate with one another. The local Journeyman Protectors were soon linked into the Haat Mando’ade comm frequency though, and took charge of organizing the other local volunteers.

Obi-Wan was into his beskar’gam with practiced ease within minutes after the first explosion ripped through the city. His armour plates were still unpainted, but it didn’t take a genius to understand that Obi-Wan had been favoured by the Mand’alor with a very expensive gift. Jinn sneered when Obi-Wan appeared in his beskar’gam, but Obi-Wan ignored him, crossing to kneel before his Mand’alor, fist pressed to heart in salute, buy’ce tucked under his arm. Jango smiled tightly, running this hand through Obi-Wan’s short russet hair. 

“K’oyacyi,” Jango ordered gruffly. Given the strength of the command, Obi-Wan knew he meant _stay alive_ rather than some of the other translations he’d learned.

“Pirunir sur’haaise,” Obi-Wan responded with a cheeky smile, then kissed Jango’s hand. Jango smiled ferally at that, and nodded sharply, then tugged Obi-Wan up to kiss him deeply on the mouth. 

“K’oyacyi,” Jango reiterated when they parted, more in the vein of _come back to me_ this time, as he gently brought their heads together. This, Obi-Wan now knew, was an incredibly intimate position between two Mando’ade, pressed forehead to forehead and nose to nose, sharing life and breath between them.

“Haat, ijaa, haa’it,” Obi-Wan swore, and leaned in to kiss Jango again. It was not attachment, but he wasn’t going to let anyone take Jango from him. Parting, Obi-Wan slammed on his buy’ce, and sprinted from the hotel, testing his comms as he ran. He heard Jango’s voice join the comm chatter a few moments later, directing the Supercommandos. The distinctive roar of jetpacks screamed overhead, and Obi-Wan was sure he heard the unmistakable discharge of Jango’s custom WESTAR-34 blasters. Toggling his HUD, Obi-Wan rapidly took in the information provided and assessed the field of battle.

A low hum sounded just out of Obi-Wan’s peripheral vision, but he didn’t turn. It was the distinct sound of a lightsaber being engaged, and he felt no immediate increase in the level of danger around him. It wasn’t the familiar presence of Master Dooku, who had likely gone to find a datasuite. Which meant it was Jinn. Obi-Wan debated a moment, then toggled on his external speakers. 

“Are you not needed with the Duchess?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Master Dooku is capable of defending her,” Jinn said dismissively, and Obi-Wan shrugged. Their shared Master was more than capable, but the Duchess wasn’t Dooku’s responsibility. But then, from what little Obi-Wan knew of Master Jinn, the man didn’t seem big on responsibility. It was perhaps a judgment made in ignorance, but Jinn didn’t allow himself to be known well enough for a better assessment to be made.

True Mandalorian signatures were already registering on Obi-Wan’s HUD, and so he pitched himself down into the battle enjoined in the plaza, confident he had backup if needed. People were boiling out of the buildings that ringed the square with whatever weapons they had on hand. Down the Chortav Meshurkaane, the stores and stalls selling blasters were seeing a sudden, dramatic uptick in business. Obi-Wan’s ‘saber was a searing blue beacon, and he grinned ferally as he took the arms off a Death Watch commando whose beskar’gam hadn’t been made of true beskar; the lightsaber parted the durasteel and armourweave like flimsiplast. 

Obi-Wan danced and spun, deflecting blaster bolts, until the Force screamed, and Obi-Wan ducked, rolling under a slice of black light. For a moment, he just stared, panting in shock. The Darksaber. He’d heard of it, every Jedi Initiate knew the stories by heart. The ancient Mando Crusaders had struck deep into the heart of the galaxy, toppling the Jedi Temple and taking the distinctive ‘saber of Tarre Vizsla as their prize, along with numerous other treasures. 

The Darksaber had been passed down in the lineage of House Vizsla for generations since. House Vizsla, whose Head was the leader of the Death Watch faction, had taken many Jedi lives over the years with the fabled blade. Obi-Wan growled softly. Vengeance might not be the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan was Haat Mando’ade now as well, and the only one practiced against a ‘saber wielding opponent. He _would_ protect his clan.

“Darksaber, on it,” Obi-Wan warned over the comms, and then he engaged, hoping the other Haat Mando’ade would stay back. In his peripheral vision, he could see the movement of enemies and the clan alike on his HUD. He ignored the information for the moment, his focus entirely on the saber-wielder before him.

The Mando’ad bearing the Darksaber had clearly studied swordsmanship. But they just as clearly were unused to fighting with a lightsaber. The physics and mechanics of fighting with a Force-imbued plasma blade were utterly unlike anything else; there was a reason Jedi learned from a very young age how to handle their weapons, and why most non-Force-sensitives didn’t use lightsabers. It was possible, but it was a lot of work, and a Jedi could usually overpower a non-Force-user regardless when it came to bladed combat. 

Obi-Wan utilized the familiar defenses of Soresu at first. It was soon clear to him though, that while his opponent was making plenty of mistakes, they were getting better as the fight went on, learning Obi-Wan’s style. Obi-Wan was learning and analyzing too though; such was one of the strengths of the Resilience form.

With a sharp smile inside his buy’ce, Obi-Wan flowed from defensive Soresu into the more aggressive Contention form - Makashi. It took three efficient parries and a sharp thrust, and Obi-Wan hit the weak spot in the beskar’gam, his blade piercing through his opponent’s throat at the sternal notch.

The Death Watch commando collapsed, and Obi-Wan grabbed the Darksaber as it fell, securing it at his own waist. Obi-Wan withdrew his blade and settled back into Soresu, deflecting blaster bolts back at the attackers.

With the city rising against anyone wearing a Death Watch sigil or even perceived supporters, the attack was soon disrupted. The high whine of a jetpack itched at Obi-Wan’s hearing, and he smiled as his HUD indicated it was Jango. The Mand’alor set down at Obi-wan’s side, followed shortly by the other Haat Mando’ade loyalists that had been in the city. There were only about 50 of them, that being the capacity of Jango’s personal AIAT/i gunship, _Jaster’s Legacy_. With the city on their side, that was more than enough.

Confident they were safe with the others surrounding them, Obi-Wan removed his helmet and knelt, unhooking the Darksaber from where he’d secured it on his utility belt and offering it to Jango. A sharp gasp raced through the nearest Haat Mando’ade, all of them recognizing the weapon even when it was powered down, and Obi-Wan felt his Master’s amusement from nearby. Jango pulled off his buy’ce, taking the ‘saber and thumbing the controls to engage the blade. Black light jumped from the emitter, humming ominously. Jango grinned, raising the Darksaber in victory, and the True Mandalorians gave full-throated voice to their joy. Lowering the blade, Jango thumbed it back off, then held it out to Obi-Wan.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Jango said. “You keep what you kill.” Obi-Wan unsealed his buy’ce and removed it.

“You honour me, Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan accepted, taking the hilt. He could feel the strain in the crystal - it would take practice and meditation before he could truly master the Darksaber; rumour said the blade could only be claimed by the killer of its last owner. In that, Obi-Wan had earned it fairly. But he was unshakably aligned with the Light side of the Force, and the Darksaber had been used to do many evil deeds, and take many Jedi lives. He would definitely need to meditate. “My blade is sworn to the welfare of the Republic and the defense of the Light. May we never meet in battle.” Jango grinned at that. 

“May we never meet in battle, ner jet’ika,” Jango echoed, voice deepening slightly on the endearment. He hauled Obi-Wan to his feet and kissed him thoroughly to a round of catcalling from his cadre. They had all already known that Jango was courting Obi-Wan, and they all supported the pairing. The Jedi Order in general might not be well regarded, but Obi-Wan and Dooku were _their_ Jedi, and that made all the difference.

* * *

“I want to know why those Kyr’tsad shabuire thought they had a chance to take Keldabe,” Jango growled that night as he paced the Mand’alor’s suite at the Oyu’baat. Obi-Wan, Dooku, Myles, and Silas sat on the luxurious sofas, a room service tray on the low table.

“With that kid leading them, it could have been pure hubris,” Myles said disdainfully, sipping at his spiced caf. Obi-Wan grimaced slightly. He didn’t regret killing Pre Vizsla, but the Death Watch leader couldn’t have been much older than Obi-Wan himself, at the most. He knew Mandalorians traditionally came of age at 13, and a traditionalist like Vizsla would have started combat training even younger. That still didn’t make his death right; necessary, yes, but still unfortunate, especially as any remaining members of the Death Watch faction would make a martyr of him for their cause.

“We need to find out their target,” Silas said, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Whether they were trying for the Duchess again, trying for _us_ again, or just generally trying to cause chaos.”

“Lorn is working on the tech we’ve recovered,” Myles said, naming their slicer. Lorn was very good at decrypting information, or piecing back together data that had been fragmented. “Hopefully they’ll be able to get us some new info.” Jango grunted, glancing over at Obi-Wan, who had changed back into Jedi tunics and tabards. Obi-Wan had meditated earlier with the Darksaber, and was looking half-asleep after the day’s excitement.

“Let’s call it a night,” Jango said fondly, and Silas and Myles nodded and showed themselves to their rooms. Obi-Wan blinked sleepily as they left, then yawned. “Go get cleaned up, jet’ika,” he directed gently. “Time for bed.” Obi-Wan blinked again, and Dooku laughed softly. 

“Come along, dear one,” Jan chided, and urged Obi-Wan to his feet. Once set in motion, Obi-Wan trundled off to wash up, and Jan turned back to their host. “Good night, Jango. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Jango shook his head.

“Obi-Wan’s neutrality has been obliterated in Jinn’s eyes,” Jango said, knowing that was his own fault but not regretting it in the least. “The best you can do is continue to present yourself as an unbiased mediator.”

“Oh, Qui-Gon is well aware I’m biased in this matter,” Dooku chuckled. “He is too. But we can set those biases aside for the good of the Mando’ade. The difficult parts are you and the Duchess. You both believe ardently in your causes, and that makes compromise - tricky.” Jango laughed softly.

“I’m perfectly happy to live and let live. That’s the trouble; she would have us give up all that makes us who we are or live in exile. I love my people far too much to accept that fate,” Jango growled. Dooku bowed his head in acceptance. Jango’s stubbornness was already well known to Dooku - it was part of the reason the negotiations were ongoing. 

“She loves the Mando’ade as well,” Dooku reminded, and Jango nodded. He did not argue Satine Kryze’s patriotism. It was the wisdom of her pacifism he questioned. Disarming the Mando’ade, Jango thought, would only invite outsiders to lay claim to the resources of the sector, which ought to go to sustaining and advancing the Mando’ade.

“And yet she would leave us vulnerable,” Jango said, then shook his head. “I know I need not explain it to you.” He sighed. 

“It’s been a long day,” Dooku said with quiet understanding.

“It _has_ ,” Jango agreed, going to fill his mug again. He glanced to Jan, holding up the kettle in silent offering. Dooku nodded, accepting another cup of shig. They drank quietly until Jango drained his mug with a sigh.

“If you hurt him-” Dooku warned, when Jango had finished his shig and turned toward his room.

“I’m pretty sure the entire clan would come after me,” Jango said bemusedly. “I know it’s been fast, but I could easily love him, Jan. I know our lives will keep us apart at times, but that man - he’s the one. Mando’ade don’t really believe in soulmates or perfect matches like some people do, but if I did, I’d say he’s likely it.” 

Dooku nodded at that, then retired to his own room. Jango turned out the lights and double checked the locks, then headed to bed himself. As he finished stripping and checking over his armour, he heard the water shower turn off. 

Obi-Wan padded into the bedroom in the synthsilk sleeping tunic Jango had bought him a few days before, the shimmering green fabric bringing out the greener tones in his eyes. Jango let his eyes trail down his Jedi’s lithe form appreciatively. Although the cut of the tunic was modest, long sleeved and high necked, the hem hitting at the knee, the material was so fine it was slightly translucent. Jango swept Obi-Wan into his arms, kissing him.

“Mmm, Jango?” Obi-Wan asked, and Jango growled softly, kissing along his lightly stubbled jaw. 

“Bed, cyar’ika,” Jango ordered. Obi-Wan flushed at the naked desire in Jango’s voice, and Jango couldn’t help but smile. He guided them both into bed, spooning along Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Cyare,” Obi-Wan murmured sleepily, tugging Jango’s warm arm around his waist. 

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Jango reassured, kissing up the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. “I have you.” Obi-Wan let out an indecipherable mumble, rubbing back against Jango. “Easy,” Jango murmured. He gently rucked up the silky sleep tunic, dragging the soft material over Obi-Wan’s skin until Obi-Wan was trembling against him. 

“Jango, Jango,” Obi-Wan panted quietly. Jango growled, kissing Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Gently he nudged his eager cock between Obi-Wan’s muscular thighs, his copious precome and the sweat beading on Obi-Wan’s skin easing the way. Jango palmed Obi-Wan’s nipple as he began to rock against the slightly taller man, then swept his hand south, gently fondling Obi-Wan’s erection.

They rubbed together slowly, Obi-Wan keening quietly in pleasure. It didn’t take long for them to come, Jango milking Obi-Wan’s orgasm from him, then spattering his seed on Obi-Wan’s thighs. Obi-Wan hummed softly with pleasure, tugging Jango’s hand to his mouth and kissing his fingers before drifting off to sleep. Jango smiled warmly, hugging Obi-Wan a little tighter for a moment but not waking him. His little Jedi had done well today. Jango grinned smugly at that. He’d found a true mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Buy’ce = helmet  
> K’oyacyi = 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*  
> Kyr’tsad = Death Watch  
> Lek = yes / yeah, short form of ‘elek’  
> Pirunir sur’haaise = lit. make their eyes water, slang for kill / injure / defeat them  
> Shabuire = assholes / sons of a… / etc.  
> Shig = hot beverage - any infusion of whatever's available, but usually a mildly stimulant herb with a citrus flavor called behot  
> Su cuy’gar ner jet’ika = still alive (hello) my little Jedi


	4. Chapter 4

Obi-Wan woke slowly, warm and content as he had been every morning he woke in Jango’s arms. Jango’s large hand had found its way back down Obi-Wan’s body in the night, and was splayed on his lower belly. He could feel Jango’s morning erection pressed against his lower back, and desire swept through him sharply. He was alive. They were both alive. They had survived Death Watch. He’d taken the Darksaber in single combat. They were _alive_. Obi-Wan let out a shuddering breath at the sudden wash of adrenaline, filtering the emotions, settling half-way into meditation and letting the Force sweep away the rush of near ecstatic relief. 

“Mmm,” Jango murmured, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan relaxed, knowing his sudden tension had likely alerted Jango to his wakefulness. Jango was a light sleeper by habit, and it was rare that Obi-Wan could slip from their shared bed without waking him. “What’s got you thinking so hard, ner jet’ika?” Jango rumbled, voice and accent thick with sleep. 

“Just realized how _bad_ yesterday could have been,” Obi-Wan admitted softly.

“Could’ve been,” Jango admitted sleepily. “But wasn’t. You helped make sure it wasn’t.” He nosed through the longer hair at Obi-Wan’s nape that was usually kept bound back in a short tail and softly kissed the knob of Obi-Wan’s spine. “You protected your people,” he praised. “So beautiful out there, kal’redul.” Obi-Wan flushed at the praise, pressing back against Jango. Jango growled softly, shifting over Obi-Wan and kissing his neck and jaw, then gently turning Obi-Wan on the mattress so he could kiss Obi-Wan on the mouth. 

Despite his usual disdain for kissing before he’d brushed his teeth, Obi-Wan opened readily to Jango, kissing him eagerly. Moving slow enough that Obi-Wan could protest if he went too far, Jango skimmed his hands up Obi-Wan’s flanks, lifting the thin sleep tunic as he went. Obi-Wan murmured softly, but it wasn’t protest. He flushed as Jango lifted the tunic away completely, laying still and open beneath his lover. Jango drank in the sight of his Jedi. 

Obi-Wan was still a bit coltish with youth, twenty years old and not quite fully grown into himself. He was lean and pale, sparse ginger hair speckling his chest and limbs, growing more thickly beneath his arms and between his legs. Freckles were scattered liberally over his arms and shoulders and back, and dotted his nose and cheeks and forehead where he got more sun. Reddish brown hair was buzzed short over most of his head, sticking up in every direction. His long Padawan braid trailed down his pale throat, his loosed tail spread on the pillow. A few flaking spots of dried come clung to his thighs and belly from their lovemaking the night before.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jango said appreciatively, letting his fingers trace the silky skin of Obi-Wan’s stomach, brushing aside last night’s mess. Obi-Wan wasn’t overly muscular, built lean and light, and developed for agility and speed rather than overpowering strength. His muscles were well-defined though, especially the core muscles of his abdomen and the long muscles of his powerful legs. Leaning down, Jango kissed Obi-Wan again, then began to slowly kiss down his neck, his chest. Obi-Wan giggled softly as Jango nipped teasingly at his belly, his abdominal muscles fluttering with anticipation. 

“Let me know if I move too fast or go too far,” Jango murmured, then sucked a bruise into the soft crease between torso and thigh. Obi-Wan moaned, fingers scraping into Jango’s black curls and tugging gently. Jango chuckled softly, licking apologetically at the skin he’d sucked on. Obi-Wan quieted slightly, only to give another sharp cry when Jango nipped at the inside of his thigh. Again Jango soothed the skin with his tongue. Turning his head slightly, he brushed his stubbled cheek against Obi-Wan’s thigh. Obi-Wan moaned, hips rocking up hopefully. 

With a lewd smile, Jango licked up Obi-Wan’s shaft and over the head of his cock. Obi-Wan groaned, fisting both hands in the bedcovers. He’d been sucked before, but never by someone he cared for so deeply, and the idea that it was Jango touching him, Jango sucking him, Jango giving him this exquisite pleasure - Obi-Wan didn’t last long. He soon came, howling Jango’s name and curling forward over Jango’s head. 

Jango swallowed quickly, unsurprised by Obi-Wan’s rapid release. He was well aware his Jedi was inexperienced. It was a little flattering too, to make Obi-Wan come so eagerly. Still, he leaned up, kissing Obi-Wan deeply after he’d swallowed most of his release. Obi-Wan clung, kissing back hungrily. He could taste what had to be his own semen, salty and bitter in Jango’s mouth, but he didn’t care, only wanted to be kissing Jango, holding Jango. 

“I want -” Obi-Wan started, not sure exactly what he wanted. He reached down, cupping Jango’s erection. “I-”

“Nothing you don’t want, cyar’ika,” Jango said firmly, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “I’d be perfectly happy with your hand on me like that.” Obi-Wan gnawed his lower lip, looking down at his slender fingers wrapped around Jango’s flushed dark cock. “Do you touch yourself?” Jango asked, not sure how Jedi doctrine viewed masturbation. He rocked gently into Obi-Wan’s hand, watched Obi-Wan’s breath stutter in his chest.

“I - yes,” Obi-Wan admitted, blushing heatedly. 

“Just stroke me how you like to be stroked,” Jango urged, and Obi-Wan flushed even more deeply. 

“I don’t usually - I like to put my fingers inside,” Obi-Wan confessed, and Jango groaned deeply.

“Fuck,” Jango swore. “I’d like to see that one day, cyar’ika,” Jango panted, then reached down and guided Obi-Wan’s hand. “Hold like this, firm, squeeze a little while you pull, that’s it cyar’ika. I’m just going to fuck your hand, okay?” Obi-Wan nodded mutely, and Jango did as promised, fucking into Obi-Wan’s fist. “That’s it, cyar’ika,” Jango panted, and leaned down to kiss his little Jedi one more time before he came with a sharp grunt, splattering his seed against Obi-Wan’s belly. 

For a moment, Jango just stared avariciously, inordinately pleased by the pattern of his semen on Obi-Wan’s flushed skin. Obi-Wan arched his back, displaying unselfconsciously. He trailed his fingers through the come on his stomach and brought them to his mouth, wondering if Jango tasted different than he himself did. Jango groaned softly as Obi-Wan licked the seed from his fingers, his kiss-swollen mouth puckering around a finger tip as he sucked. Jango swiped his fingers through the semen, gathering it up and offering it to Obi-Wan, who opened his mouth compliantly, blue eyes searing Jango as his pink tongue flickered out to curl around one of Jango’s fingertips. 

Jango swore under his breath, pushing his finger into Obi-Wan’s suckling mouth. Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered closed as he sucked, moaning softly around Jango’s finger. Gently Jango stroked Obi-Wan’s tongue, then fed him another finger of come. He fucked Obi-Wan’s mouth with his fingers, watching avidly as Obi-Wan sucked off every drop of Jango’s semen. 

“Good boy,” Jango practically growled, and Obi-Wan moaned in pleasure at the compliment. Leaning down, Jango licked the last of his semen from Obi-Wan’s stomach, then kissed his Jedi thoroughly. Obi-Wan kissed back eagerly, rubbing up against Jango, thighs spread beneath Jango’s weight. They broke apart slowly, Obi-Wan still slightly dazed. 

“Beautiful,” Jango murmured against Obi-Wan’s mouth, then slowly eased away. Obi-Wan let out a soft noise of disappointment, nestling against Jango. Jango huffed softly, relaxing back against the bed. They laid in bed a little longer, Jango idly running his fingers over Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Master’s waiting,” Obi-Wan murmured, his cheeks flushed heatedly. He tapped his temple to indicate the communication had been mental. Jango nodded with a wry smile, kneeling up on the bed. He just stared at Obi-Wan for a moment longer, then sighed and padded into the lavish ‘fresher. Obi-Wan followed Jango after a moment, and they danced around each other at the sinks as they washed up, then dressed and went to find Jan in the seating area, an array of filling first-meal options spread before him. 

Obi-Wan settled next to Jan, helping himself to some of the hot cereal cooked from the native neral grain and sweetening it with honey and fruit. Jango dropped down at Obi-Wan’s other side, reaching over him to help himself to some shig. Myles and Silas soon joined them, grunting sleepily in greeting. There was quiet save the sound of drinking and chewing as they all took their first mugs of shig and ate their first meal of the day.

“Su’cuy,” Jango greeted teasingly when Myles and Silas finally looked up from their plates. Silas glared, and Myles made a rude hand gesture - it was one of his most frequent greetings, Obi-Wan had noted with some amusement.

“We all awake?” Jan questioned. Obi-Wan thought it likely his Master had been up for at least an hour already. He dipped his head, knowing he and Jango had been in bed later than usual that morning. He didn’t regret it. Striking a balance between the personal and professional was something he would have to learn as they went along. Now though, there was work to be done, and Obi-Wan had promised himself that as much as he loved Jango, he wouldn’t shirk his responsibilities as a Jedi for anyone. 

“Yesterday’s damage?” Jango asked, directing the question to Myles and Silas. 

“The two Keldabe-based networks agree on casualty numbers: 23 locals dead, 16 of them not in armour. Another 42 hospitalized, 37 of those not armoured,” Silas reported. “38 kyr’tsad dead, including Pre Vizsla. They estimate at least 20 more have gone to ground in the city.” 

“The Journeyman Protectors would welcome our help,” Myles pitched in.

“See to it,” Jango directed. “I don’t like civilians dying for me. I know our patrols have been quietly keeping an eye on the city, but let’s step that up, make sure people know we’ll help out if they see something.” Myles nodded. 

“Obi-Wan, I’d like you to keep on Death Watch too,” Jan suggested as they went over the tasks before them. “Speak with anyone you can about what they saw - let’s try and trail them back to their lair, find out all we can on where they’re operating and how. Your beskar’gam is unmarked; if you keep your lightsaber out of sight, people might be more willing to talk to a fellow Mando than a Jedi. I’ll remain at your side, Mand’alor, and we’ll make Obi-Wan’s excuses.” Jango nodded. It was a good idea. Most eyes would remain on Jango and the obvious Jedi, allowing Obi-Wan to investigate unimpeded.

While he traversed the city that day following leads, Obi-Wan also picked up a few interesting components to add to the gauntlets of his beskar’gam. It had become clear in the fighting that a multitude of useful tools could be added - Jango’s gauntlets boasted a liquid-cable ascension line on one wrist, a compact missile-launcher on the other, along with other surprises for the unwary. The ascension line was something Obi-Wan could easily see the use of, and he wanted to see what else was available.

It took a few days of building trust, a few more of quietly and carefully following gossip, but Obi-Wan was soon flushing the local remnants of Death Watch out of their hiding-holes. As he did, he gathered what information he could before remanding the members of Death Watch to the local authorities. Keldabe was by that point almost uniformly pro-Haat Mando’ade, more of Jango’s aliit having arrived to help keep order, and to ensure that supplies were reaching the city properly. The local Journeymen Protectors gratefully accepted the help, trusting that Jango, as the son of one of their own, would have ensured his aliit knew how to keep the peace.

The more information Obi-Wan gathered, though, the more concerned he became about Death Watch’s actions. While part of the motivation behind Death Watch’s attacks was their loyalty to the Vizsla clan, there was more. Someone in the shadows had been aiming to destroy both the Haat Mando’ade and New Mandalorian factions, and to decimate the Mando people with a drawn out civil war. Death Watch had been well funded to cause trouble, and they had been promised that once they ascended to primacy, they would have free reign to plunder the galaxy as they willed.

Obi-Wan’s mind immediately flashed back to those tales of the Mandalorian Crusaders, sweeping mercilessly through the galaxy and killing any sentient that stood in their way. He thought of the Jedi Temple, bombed and plundered. He thought of the Sith Wars, with Jedi defecting to the Mando and back again, and hundreds, thousands dying, of the Jedi Falling. No. That way lay madness. Taking down the shadowy director would do a great deal to prevent further attacks.

Hints of the being Obi-Wan mentally dubbed the ‘Shadow Master’ weren’t the only intriguing finds he scraped together out of what he found in the Death Watch hideouts. He found the names and information of a number of monetary supporters of Death Watch; while not a crime in and of itself, it could be argued that supporting Death Watch was in fact contracting the deaths of innocents, something anathema to the Supercommando Codex that the Haat Mando’ade and many other Mando’ade lived by. 

It was in his second week of hunting down Death Watch members who had gone to ground that Obi-Wan first discovered mention of a secret holding facility on Concordia, where the Vizsla clan had their powerbase. Jango immediately glowered when Obi-Wan shared the information during their now nightly debrief. Obi-Wan could feel his lover’s righteous anger; neither Clan Vizsla nor Death Watch had any right save that of might to hold others prisoner. 

“How much do we actually know?” Silas asked as Jango began to pace.

“Rumours,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “Speculation.”

“It would be like them though,” Jango said, and Obi-Wan shrugged. Jango turned to Myles.

“Lorn?” Myles asked preemptively.

“Yeah, have him start digging, any help he needs, give it to him.” Jango directed. Until they knew more, there wasn’t much they could do. He paced a little longer, then sat back down next to Obi-Wan, who had partially disassembled one of his gauntlets and was carefully fitting in a small shielded compartment where he could carry extra lightsaber components. 

Talks the next few days were tenser than they had been since the first few days. Obi-Wan spent more time in the city asking questions, pushing his informants to be more forthcoming about what might or might not be happening on Concordia. Between the more anecdotal tales he brought, and what Lorn was able to slice, they concluded that the rumours of a detention block at the Vizsla compound were almost certainly grounded in fact. With the more than slight possibility of Death Watch having Haat Mando’ade prisoners from past skirmishes between the factions, Jango was unwilling to wait until the potentially complicit Journeyman Protectors on Concordia took action. He would lead his clan to retrieve any lost members himself. 

“So you won’t be in talks?” Dooku asked, and Jango smiled thinly. 

“I’ll be there tomorrow, it’ll take us a little time to pull a raid together, but as soon as we get it figured out? No, I won’t be in talks.”

“I’ll let Qui-Gon know something has come up in the clan that may draw you away from the negotiating table for a few days.”

“Silas can negotiate on my behalf,” Jango said, dipping his head at his second. Silas wrinkled his nose, but didn’t argue. He was the more cool tempered of Jango’s seconds, and often acted as a check on both Jango’s and Myles’ more impulsive urges. “Lorn?” Jango asked, and turned to the slicer. The grey-green skinned Twi’lek looked up. “Find any floor plans?” Lorn grinned, then tapped at their datapad. A holo of a wire-frame schematic appeared. 

“The contractor who built their basement should be ashamed of his security measures,” Lorn said with mock sympathy. Jango grinned in turn, stepping closer and looking at the rotating image.

Carved into an abandoned mine shaft, the detention block was fairly small, likely not holding more than a dozen prisoners at a time, they concluded. There were ten cells sealed with ray-shields and monitored by security droids, with a manned security station at the sole entrance - a lift that exited to the compound barracks. The barracks could hold at least 50 fighters, and the Vizsla family’s residential area could house at least 20 more. That didn’t account for temporary barracks erected in the surrounding area, either.

“Based on the powergrid, they have some serious weaponry,” Silas offered from where he was looking through some of the other data Lorn had collected for them.

“Probably wall guns, although our sensor masking should keep them blind until we’re in visual range,” Jango said. “They have a lot of room there, but given how many of them died here a few days ago, and on Galidraan, I doubt there are more than 25 or 30 fighters in that compound. If we can get better numbers than an estimate though, that would be good. I don’t want to take everyone we have here, we need to have room on _Jaster’s Legacy_ to evac whoever we find there, and I also don’t want to leave the city and hotel without our presence as secondary defense.”

“You’ll want the Ruusaans,” Silas guessed, naming two of their best battlefield medics, Ruusaan Aver and Ruusaan Rook. Jango nodded, then looked to Myles. 

“I’ll see if I can find anything on numbers,” Lorn said. “Give me until tomorrow night?” Jango nodded.

“Tap the Ruusaans, and Lorn, you’re with us too, we’ll need the best electronic countermeasures we can scramble, and as much of their data as we can slice,” Jango directed. “We’ll decide the rest tomorrow night, hopefully with a better handle on numbers.” Myles nodded, tapping at his comm to message the other Haat Mando’ade on planet to give them a heads up. 

The other Haat Mand’ade nodded too, and after copying their data over, Lorn excused themself and returned to their room to keep poking at the holonet. Myles, Silas and Jango pored over the schematics for some time, and Obi-Wan listened as they discussed what they might find given aspects of Concordia’s terrestrial features, the architecture of the compound, the water and power readings on file, and myriad other factors. While they discussed, he finished upgrading his gauntlets - liqui-cable line, dagger, and a few secret compartments, for now, although there was space to make further changes if he desired.

After another tense day of talks, Jango and Obi-Wan returned directly to their suite. Myles, Silas and Lorn were already there, and had set up the holotable, with Lorn’s IN-series information droid joining them. 

“Numbers?” Jango asked, forgoing polite greetings.

“Probably in the mid-20s, not more than 30 fighters max,” Lorn said. “There are other small groups of fighters out in the mines, but if we accomplish a quiet in-and-out, they won’t be able to get reinforcements in from the outlying areas.” Jango nodded.

“We can easily match that,” Silas said, tapping his comm to show the list of volunteers - nearly every Haat Mando’ade with them in Keldabe would be happy to make the trip to Concordia. The door opened, and everyone looked over warily. It was Ruusaan and Ruusaan though - while the two women shared a first name common among the Mando’ade, they differed in physical appearance. Ruusaan Aver was a tall, dark-skinned human, with her tightly braided back hair dyed a retina-searing blue. Ruusaan Rook was much shorter, with ruddy skin and vestigial horn-buds on her forehead proclaiming her Devaronian ancestry. Her dark hair was cut short, and beginning to grey at the temples.

“N'eparavu takisit,” Aver apologized in greeting, and Jango nodded, then turned back to the projected schematics.

“Alright,” Jango said. “Five teams of five - Myles, Lorn, Ruusaan, and Ruusaan will lead the other squads. Obi-Wan is with me.” He shifted his gaze back to the list of volunteers. “I’ll also take Jer, Vhel, and Fenn. It’ll be a fairly short hop up. We go in as quiet as we can, deplane at altitude and take out the wall guns on the way down. Myles, you and your team will stay aloft to run countermeasures.”

Myles nodded, mentally picking his own squad from among the volunteers. He would pilot _Jaster’s Legacy_ , and he would want a skilled co-pilot, gunners, and a comms and sensors tech on his team. The others would pick their squads based on the tasks Jango assigned. It wasn’t hard to guess that Lorn’s team would mostly be doing data retrieval, and the medics would lead the evacuation of prisoners.

“Once we’re on the ground, we’ll break into squads, fan out so we can get what we came for and get gone as quickly as possible. Lorn-”

“Data?”

“Yes, but first give me best estimate on prisoners.”

“Ten, max - only five cells have their ray-shields in use, and they’re sized for two sentients a cell.”

“Alright. Aver, Rook, you’re evacuating prisoners once you get down there. Get inside as quick as you can in case they decide to use the prisoners as hostages. Lorn - data. Find it, copy it, and keep your comm on in case anyone needs technical help. I’ll go after the leadership.” The others all nodded, and the team leaders began hashing out who they would take on their teams. Aver and Rook both wanted fighters well versed in first-aid, Lorn wanting those with better-than-average data-retrieval skills.

The next morning, Jango and Obi-Wan both dressed in full beskar’gam, and they and the selected Haat Mando’ade Supercommandos boarded _Jaster’s Legacy_ , headed for Concordia. The trip only took a few hours, and they spent them going over the intelligence they had on the Vizsla compound, highlighting potential paths through the structure to their objectives. It was a simple, rectangular layout, with the family residence at the north end, barracks at the south end, and training grounds and a small hangar in between. The hanger was too small for anything interstellar - likely housing only speeders or aircars. The entrance to the detention block was under the barracks, which were built over an old mine.

Silence descended as _Jaster’s Legacy_ settled into orbit over Concordia and opened up the long range sensors, simultaneously beginning electronic countermeasures to mask their presence. The Supercommandos went over their armour compulsively, double and triple checking seals and weapons and jetpacks. Obi-Wan did the same, fidgeting his two lightsabers in his hands. His bright blue-bladed ‘saber had been built for a two handed grip rather than jar’kai, although Obi-Wan was proficient in dual wielding. Going into battle with the Darksaber in his off hand was terribly symbolic, though, and he had meditated with the weapon enough that he was comfortable using it. The crystal had somewhat begrudgingly accepted him, understanding that it would be used to both protect Mandalore and bring justice in the wider galaxy.

As wind speed and altitude readouts from the shipboard scanners filtered into the displays in their helmets, the Haat Mando’ade readied themselves for atmospheric entry. _Jaster’s Legacy_ flew straight towards the Vizsla compound, beginning evasive maneuvers when they were in visual range of a battery of large guns. Myles piloted carefully to avoid the worst of the anti-aircraft fire, the rest of the ship-assigned squad assisting as needed, the gunners targeting shield and gun emplacements, the comm and sensor tech monitoring the local frequencies and keeping them invisible to scanning. As soon as they hit the ceiling for HALO jumps, Supercommandos lined up near the ramp to deplane. 

“Ready?” Jango asked Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, then nodded, clicking their helmeted foreheads together. 

“K’oyacyi,” Obi-Wan replied. Jango gave a nod, and then he and Jango were deplaning almost in tandem, free-falling for a while before firing their jetpacks. The Supercommandos launched themselves out after their leader. In their helmets, the sliced schematic overlaid the rectangular compound below, along with the sensor information from the ship pinpointing clusters of heat signatures. When they were in range, the locations of the guns lit up, and the Supercommandos used the missiles on their jetpacks to take out the outer defenses before they even reached the ground. A few more volleys collapsed the hangar, pinning down any vehicles housed there. A speeder sitting outside the hangar door went up in a ball of flame.

While Obi-Wan had made a few test flights, this was his first high altitude jump with a jetpack. Adrenaline scoured through him, and he fought the urge to laugh giddily, keeping himself in a mission mindset. His landing wasn’t as good as some of the others, despite his ability to use the Force; he didn’t quite have the timing down on when to cut the thrusters. Still, he landed when and where he was supposed to, without any broken bones, and then they were breaching the walls and fighting their way into the compound.

Obi-Wan’s blasters remained holstered on his thighs, leaving his hands free to dual-wield the Darksaber and the lightsaber he had created when he became Jan’s Padawan. The plasma blades were both offense and defense, deflecting any blasterbolt in the area back towards the Death Watch partisans who fired at them. 

As they broke open the compound, the Haat Mando’ade fractured into their smaller assigned groups, some making for the detention block and the fighters that guarded it, others going to find datasuites and slicing as much information as they could. Overhead, _Jaster’s Legacy_ ran a suite of electronic countermeasures, jamming all of Death Watch’s communications so they couldn’t call for backup. Obi-Wan stuck himself on Jango’s shoulder and followed him into the depths of the fortress, their three squad-mates following behind; they would be looking for whoever was in charge.

They found the leader in a well-fortified war-room with a few others; the slight alterations in beskar’gam suggested that Clan Vizsla was now led by their matriarch. Whoever they were, they didn’t allow Jango and Obi-Wan to speculate long. Blaster fire was soon being exchanged rapidly between Jango and the Death Watch commander. Obi-Wan, although he trusted well enough in the sturdiness of their beskar’gam, wasn’t shy about deflecting anything that came close to his lover. The other Haat Mando’ade made short work of their Death Watch counterparts.

In the end, Jango managed to shoot the Death Watch commander in the throat, capitalizing on the flaw in many modern beskar’gam. Obi-Wan extinguished his ‘sabers a few moments after the blaster-fire stopped, then went to the datasuite and began loading all he could onto the datachips he’d brought with him. Over their comms, they could hear the battlefield chatter of the rest of the troops, calling out adversaries and celebrating their downfall. Anyone in armour was fair game by their rules of engagement, and from what Obi-Wan had been told by Jango, those rules were far stricter than those by which Death Watch operated. Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly surprised - it was no secret that unarmed civilians had died during the Death Watch assault on Keldabe. 

“Alor,” Ruusaan Aver said, cutting through the fading chatter. “Got something here you need to see.” There was a grim urgency to her voice, and Jango immediately straightened from his half-slouch near the door where he was keeping watch. 

_Go ahead_ , Obi-Wan signalled with his hands. He still had plenty of data to slice, not sure if the data in central command would be accessible from whatever terminal Lorn had hooked into, and he didn’t need Jango to watch over him. Their five-being team could be easily split. Jango nodded, then signalled to one of the others to follow before he freed his weapons and jogged from the room. Obi-Wan spared a thought to hope that all would be well - the Force was muddy and shadowed with the day’s violence, giving no hints at what might be wrong - then he buried himself in the data once more. 

“Clear,” Obi-Wan announced into the squad’s comm frequency when he’d stored all the data he could download. The other two nodded, and they swept one more time through their area, making sure they weren’t leaving any enemies at their backs. “Clear,” Obi-Wan announced again when they were satisfied, this time to the frequency used by the entire team. 

“Report to the training area,” Ruusaan Rook directed, “you can help us get evac-ready.” 

“Copy,” Obi-Wan agreed, and he and his remaining squad-mates returned to the open space at the center of the compound, each of them carrying the body of a fallen Death Watch partisan over their shoulders. They found Lorn’s and Rook’s teams already there, guarding a dozen surrendered Death Watch partisans, four newly freed prisoners able to move under their own power, and two on stretchers. It took a few more trips to carry out the bodies, which would go into cold storage for the trip back to Keldabe, and be turned over to the authorities there.

“Go for landing sequence,” Aver reported over the comm not long after Obi-Wan and his team arrived. Her squad came out first, escorting three more former prisoners. Aver, Jango, and the Mando who had gone with him earlier came out last, Aver guiding a floating stretcher. Per the original plan, Obi-Wan and his squad-mates powered up their jet-packs, taking overwatch position. 

_Jaster’s Legacy_ set down with a wash of hot air, ramp lowering. The injured commandos and newly freed prisoners were loaded first, then the captured members of Death Watch were loaded on. Obi-Wan knew they would be well secured, then turned over to the Journeyman Protectors in Keldabe. Bodies were loaded last. The ship took off, and once they were clear of the walls, Obi-Wan and the Haat Mando’ade flying escort boarded, then closed the ramp.

Obi-Wan found Jango in the medbay as they headed back to Keldabe. Jango sat alongside a mostly curtained off bed, the woman inside unrecognizable under heavy bandaging. When Obi-Wan pulled off his buy’ce, the sweet, fruity scent of bacta flooded his nose. 

Scuffing his feet slightly to ensure he didn’t surprise Jango, Obi-Wan approached, tapping his gauntlet against Jango’s shoulder pauldron before resting his hand on Jango’s shoulder. Jango reached up, taking hold of Obi-Wan’s hand for a moment. His other hand was bare, and clasped the woman’s hand tightly. 

“Who is she?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“According to the logs? My sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Aliit = clan  
> Alor = leader, chief, boss  
> Cyar’ika = sweetheart, darling  
> Kal’redul = sword dancer from _kal_ (n.), blade and _redular_ (v.), to dance  
> K’oyacyi = 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*   
> Mi’vaar ti gar? = How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal.. The response for *I'm fine thanks,* is *Naas.* (Literally - nothing. )  
> N'eparavu takisit = sorry (lit: I eat my insult)  
> Shabuire = extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger. Plural.   
> Su’cuy = hi. Colloquial from su cuy’gar = hello (lit. “you’re still alive”)  
> Su'cuyi = I’m still alive


	5. Chapter 5

When the Haat Mando’ade arrived at Keldabe a few hours later, ambulances were waiting, as were the local authorities. The wounded were loaded up, then the dead, allowing the ambulances to depart. Jango rode along with the woman tentatively identified as his sister. Once Obi-Wan had finished giving his report to the Journeyman Protectors, he found out where the ambulance had brought Jango and his charge, and headed to Keldabe’s central hospital. 

At the hospital, Obi-Wan nodded in greeting to the Haat Mando’ade at the main entrance, and went to the front desk. After calling up to the room, they told Obi-Wan where to go, and he nodded in thanks. He silently greeted the pair of Haat Mando’ade standing outside the doorway to a private room, then went in. Jango was inside with the woman they’d freed from the Death Watch cells - they were certain now that she was Arla Fett, his sister.

Back on Concordia, the information Lorn pulled from the central datacore identified the prisoner as the sister Jango had thought dead in the same raid that killed his parents when he was a boy. She had been emaciated and confused, and had clearly been hurt. But when he had seen her, Jango made no argument at all against the tentative identification as his sister, despite that the passing years and her captivity had dulled her once golden hair to a medium brown and stripped the girlishness from her face and frame. The medics had run her DNA once they reached the hospital, and while Arla didn’t have a profile in the system, there were enough similarities with Jango’s that she had to be a close relative. 

“Su’cuy,” Jango greeted tiredly when Obi-Wan let himself into the room.

“Su’cuy. Mi’vaar ti gar?”

“Su'cuyi.”

Obi-Wan nodded, pulling up another chair alongside Jango’s next to the bacta tank where Arla floated, an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. He pulled off his gauntlet and reached out. Jango grabbed hold, squeezing tight for a moment. Around them, monitors beeped softly in time with Arla’s pulse. She slept in the tank, and healed.

“Angry,” Jango said, quieter now. “I’m so fucking angry, Obi-Wan. All these years. Fuck. I killed those shabuire too fast.” Obi-Wan couldn’t answer that - he had no comparison to draw.

“Is there any way I can help?” Obi-Wan finally offered. Jango squeezed his hand again. 

“Not really,” Jango admitted. “I - she’s free now. And the doctors say she’ll make a full physical recovery, in time. Not sure I can think rationally about the rest of it. She’s my big sister, the one who looked out for me, who taught me songs and games and where our father hid his candy stash. I mourned her, all my family, years ago.” He paused, and sighed.

“I can’t believe I got her back,” Jango said, and Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. The rest of the clan would be drinking and celebrating their victory. Jango knew he ought to celebrate with them. But he remained at Arla’s side instead, wanting to be the first being she saw when she woke. And Obi-Wan - Obi-Wan stayed with him, endearing him further to the Mand’alor. 

Even once she did wake, Arla’s recovery would be long and arduous. But she _would_ recover. Jango would make sure she had the very best care, everything she needed and then some. Mandalore’s history was too drenched in blood for their people to have not learned how to ably staunch wounds and alleviate pain. 

Jango remained at the hospital as the doctors pulled Arla out of bacta, and settled her into a private recovery room. He sat at her side until the sedation faded, and her eyes, the same shade of brown as his own, fluttered open. Still muzzy with pain-killers and other medication, Arla looked over when Jango squeezed her hand, caught Jango’s gaze, and smiled.

“Ni partayli,” Arla rasped.

“Su cuy’gar,” Jango choked out, then leaned over to push his forehead against hers. “Su cuy’gar Arla’vod.” She smiled broadly at that, and then slipped back into unconsciousness. With a small smile of his own, Jango settled back in his chair, and dozed until the doctors bustled in on their rounds, waking them both.

“It really is you,” Arla said in quiet wonder when the doctors had gone away again. “I wasn’t entirely sure. I - you look so much like Dad.” 

“It is, I’m here,” Jango said, reaching out and taking her hand again. “I - I thought you were gone.”

“And they never let me forget you still lived,” Arla said with a grim smile.

“They won’t ever hurt you again,” Jango promised firmly. Arla gave a short, sharp bark of laughter.

“No, they won’t. But that isn’t entirely up to you, Jan’ika.”

Jango dipped his head, glad to see that fire and stubbornness still alive in his sister. He had hoped her spirit was unbroken, but hadn’t been sure. She’d been nearly delirious when they found her, and medicated ever since, to encourage her body to heal.

“How - how did you find me?” Arla asked. “I know you couldn’t have been looking for me specifically.”

“You know I was adopted by Jaster Mereel after Mom and Dad were killed?” Jango asked, and Arla nodded. 

Jango gave her a condensed version of the past few years, the worsening of the warring between the clans and then more recent events. The trap at Galidraan and then the Death Watch raid on Keldabe; the discovery of the Death Watch detention block on Concordia, and the fear that some of their own might be held there. 

“So it was luck then,” Arla said with a wry twist of the lips, caught between a smile and a grimace. Jango shot her an apologetic look. “The very best luck,” she corrected, and squeezed his hand. “However it came to be, I’m damned glad you found me.”

“Me too,” Jango said.

Over the next few days, Jango still spent most of his time at the hospital, reconnecting with his sister. He began to return to the hotel at night though, instead of camping out in her room. He returned to the negotiating table only when Arla was safely settled in a well-guarded room in a long term care ward. She would need extensive physical therapy to regain her strength, and extensive psychological therapy to regain her sense of self and deal with the trauma of her captivity. Death Watch had abused her in nearly every possible way, and she had survived, but not unscathed.

Obi-Wan staggered his return to the talks, and came and went on errands even once he had returned to his Master’s side. Silas, with Jan’s backing, had conducted the talks more than ably in Jango’s stead while the Mand’alor handled his ‘small matter in the clan.’

A few tens after Jango’s return to the peace talks, the Duchess quietly set a small holo-emitter on the table top. Obi-Wan turned to his Master, but Dooku clearly hadn’t been expecting this either. Jango was harder to read. 

“I received this message last night,” Kryze said. She tapped the holo-emitter, and an image resolved: a pale-faced girl who shared the bone structure of her chin and cheeks with the Duchess. The metallic headband holding back her pin-straight hair boasted the jai’galaar sigil of Death Watch, but the earrings glinting in her earlobes were Kryze naak’sarade.

“Satine,” the recording began, “I - I know you’re in talks with the Haat Mando’ade. And - probably you don’t want to hear from me. I - I just want to promise you - you don’t have anything to fear from Death Watch anymore. 

“I’ve taken control of the clan and - well - it’s mostly others like me, only a few years out of training. There are a few more experienced fighters left but - well. I think most of them are beyond my reach, but they want to protect their children, their families. They don’t really want to fight. Still - even if they did - I can keep them in line, and - and most of us - I want to come home Satine.

“He made it sound so glorious - like one of Buir’s stories about the old heroes. But - Pre is dead now, and - and I want to come home.” The recording ended, and Satine reached out, tapping the emitter to shut it down.

“My younger sister, Bo-Katan,” Satine said, her voice strained. “There had been talk of betrothing her to Pre Vizsla to ensure peace between our clans. I haven’t seen her in - since I was sent to Coruscant five years ago. The betrothal - it wasn’t final then, she was too young for that sort of thing.”

Beneath her helmet, Bo-Katan Kryze was just a teenager, lost and alone - and suddenly responsible for the welfare of dozens of Mando’ade. It was a responsibility she’d never asked for or anticipated as a younger sibling, and likely a responsibility she wanted to abdicate.

“If what she says is true - if those who are left are willing to lay down their arms...” Jango said thoughtfully. “She is on Concordia?”

“I believe so,” Satine said. “But the message’s origin was scrambled, and I wished to share it at the first opportunity. My slicers are still working on pinpointing the point of origin.” Jango nodded.

“If she’s on Concordia, I don’t trust the Protectors there - their loyalties will be to Vizsla, not any code of justice you or even I would recognize. But - I believe that if they are willing to surrender themselves to the Journeyman Protectors here on Mandalore, we could work out an arrangement. I have no argument save ideals with those who have not killed civilians, and I hesitate to punish someone for their ideals alone.” Satine nodded, eyes brimming with tears.

They debated a little longer on the matter of Bo-Katan and the remnants of Death Watch before settling on a possible solution. Death Watch had to be disbanded and outlawed. The two leaders easily agreed to that. Bo-Katan and those like her - those who had not murdered, nor committed any other egregious crimes - would be exiled to their planets of origin, and there put under house arrest for a period of time equalling their time in Death Watch. They would enter rehabilitation programs, and eventually be reintegrated as productive members of Mando society. Most of them would likely never again be permitted to bear arms or armour.

With Arla recovering and the talks making progress towards a more unified Mandalore, Jango was looking to the future with more hope than he’d had in years. The skirmish in Keldabe and the raid on the Concordia compound had thinned Death Watch’s ranks enough that for the first time since his mentor’s death, Jango felt he could relax a little. Not wholly- he had made enough enemies over the years that he doubted he could ever relax wholly. But he could begin thinking about the legacy he wanted to leave behind one day... a warrior trained up as he had been, with Jaster Mereel’s ethics as well as the Mando hunting drive. 

_We will train warriors_ , the Mando vows proclaimed. And Jango - Jango found himself thinking of that with surprising frequency as he lay sated in bed with Obi-Wan curled at his side. The Jedi, he knew, raised their own as Jan was raising Obi-Wan. They were not blood kin to one another, no, but many Mando families had no relation of blood to one another either. The education was what was important; the Code for the Jedi, the Resol’nare for Mando’ade. 

“What has you thinking so hard?” Obi-Wan asked one night after their lovemaking, fingers ghosting lightly over Jango’s face. 

“The warriors I wish to raise for my clan. The warriors you will raise for the Jedi,” Jango said, then kissed Obi-Wan’s fingers. Obi-Wan hesitated, not sure what to ask or how. “I know that our lives - I could no more ask you to leave the Jedi than you could ask me to abandon the Mando’ade. As much as I want to raise warriors with you at my side, I know that isn’t terribly realistic.” Obi-Wan nodded and sighed.

“I like the idea of raising warriors with you, too,” Obi-Wan murmured. “We should probably make sure we can handle a long distance relationship first, though. There may be months - years even - when we don’t see each other.” 

Jango sighed at that, dipping his head in acknowledgement of the truth. 

“When this mission is over, we will be parted,” Obi-Wan continued softly. “I do not think that will be the end of what is between us. But our paths - who knows how long we will be separated.” 

Jango nodded again. He didn’t like it. He had fallen fast and hard for Obi-Wan, and wanted to keep his lover with him. Despite that, Jango knew that each of them felt their duty keenly. Obi-Wan would not be the man Jango had come to love if he were willing to sacrifice his place with the Jedi to stand at Jango’s side. And Jango doubted Obi-Wan would love a man willing to abandon his people. 

“We’ll have to make the most of our time together then,” Jango said with firm determination, and Obi-Wan leaned up to kiss him. It was a sentiment with which he could heartily agree. Their responsibilities to their people would separate them physically, but that did not mean they could not care for one another well.

Neither of them skimped on their duties at the negotiating table for the remainder of their time in Keldabe, and they went often to visit Arla. The first time Obi-Wan met Arla after she woke, she took one look at him, then glanced back at Jango and burst out laughing. Obi-Wan and Jango looked at her in confusion. 

“Only you would see a pretty Jet’ika as a challenge to court, rather than to kill, Jan’ika,” Arla gasped out, then dissolved into helpless giggling. Jango tried to be affronted, but was mostly too happy at seeing her unrestrained laughter, and relieved she didn’t see his relationship with Obi-Wan as a betrayal of Mando values. With that introduction, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but like her, although he was predisposed towards liking anyone Jango was fond of.

“So tell me about yourself, Jetii,” Arla insisted when her laughter had trailed off. 

“Uh - I was born on Stewjon, promised to the Jedi when I was a baby. The Finders came when I was two or three Standard years old to bring me back to Coruscant. I grew up in the Temple - um. My best friend is a Mon Cal named Bant, our first Masters were best friends too, but then mine wouldn’t take me back after I left the Order to fight alongside the Young on Melida/Daan, and hers was killed a few years later. We’re still really close though, she’s like my sister, taught me how to swim and everything.”

“Hold on, back up - Jinn left you in an active war zone when you were how old?” Jango cut in. 

“Uh-” Obi-Wan started.

“Jinn?” Arla asked, and Obi-Wan smiled at her in relief. 

“Qui-Gon Jinn, Duchess Kryze’s protector and advisor, was my first Master,” Obi-Wan explained, happy to shift the subject a little. “He was Master Dooku’s first student, but the two of them don’t get along very well.” Jango snorted. _Don’t get along very well_ was an excessively polite way of describing the chilly relationship between the two older Jedi. 

“That sounds - complicated,” Arla commented carefully.

“It isn’t really, except when they’re in the same sector at the same time,” Obi-Wan said. “The probation I was on after Melida/Daan was the longest I’ve been in the Temple since I was taken as a Padawan. Usually Master Dooku and I are in the Outer Rim, and Jinn isn’t in the Temple much either.” He shrugged. “It seems to be working so far.”

“I still don’t like Jinn,” Jango said.

“You don’t have to,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m not his biggest fan either, but there was a time when I would have gladly died for the man.”

“That - also sounds complicated,” Arla said. Obi-Wan shrugged again. “You don’t have to get into it. Tell me about the Jedi Temple. We only hear about it when we’re getting the tales of the Crusaders, so it’s usually just rubble then.” Obi-Wan snorted. 

“It’s basically a self-contained city inside the building,” Obi-Wan began, and described the Lake Levels where the aquatic Jedi lived, and where Bant had taught him to swim. He segueued to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, one of the largest enclosed greenhouses in the galaxy. From there he talked about some of his other favourite places - the Star Map Room, and the refectory in sublevel 17, the cramped apartment overflowing with datapads that he shared with Dooku, and the gymnasiums where the Jedi trained under the watchful eye of their Battlemaster.

Arla dozed off with a smile on her face as Obi-Wan waxed poetic about the Jedi Archives, wherein was compiled one of the greatest collections of data in the Republic. Jango watched Obi-Wan with a fond smile, seeing the way Obi-Wan’s face lit when he spoke of his friends and the places they frequented. Reaching out, he took Obi-Wan’s hand, and Obi-Wan paused, looking at Jango.

“Thank you,” Jango said softly. “I don’t think she’s smiled this much since the first day she woke, and realized she was free.” Obi-Wan ducked his head slightly. 

“I’m glad I could distract her,” Obi-Wan said. 

“It’s more than that,” Jango said. “I think when I told her you were a Jetii, some of those old tales were in the back of her mind. She worried you might be tricking me somehow, although she’d never say it straight out like that.”

“Jedi mind-tricks only work on the weak-minded,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “I doubt it would be possible to convince you to do anything against your nature.” Jango laughed softly at that.

“No, I suppose I’m a bit hard-headed,” Jango admitted.

“A bit,” Obi-Wan agreed fondly. Jango smiled. 

“Let’s leave her to sleep, the doctors say that’s what she needs most right now,” Jango said. He turned and leaned in to brush his forehead against Arla’s. “Jate vercope,” Jango murmured, then rose. He offered his hand to Obi-Wan, and they left the hospital hand in hand. Obi-Wan promised himself he would visit Arla again. He had been more than a little nervous, wanting her to like him if only for Jango’s sake.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said about Jinn,” Jango warned when they were settled on a speeder headed back to the hotel.

“Would it work if I told you I don’t want to talk about it?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Yes,” Jango said. “I want to know, because it clearly had a big impact on you. But I’m not going to force you.”

“It’s in the past. I just worry that telling you about it will drag it into the present and affect the talks.”

“My distaste for Jinn is well established, I doubt learning he’s always been a bastard will make much of a difference.”

“It’s not that he’s a bastard. He just - has a very different viewpoint from everyone else I’ve ever met, and tends to prioritize that viewpoint over others’ opinions.”

“That’s a really nice way of saying he’s a bastard, Obi-Wan,” Jango said drily. Obi-Wan sighed. 

“I was 13 or 14, I don’t remember if my lifeday had passed or not,” Obi-Wan said. “And it was my decision to abandon our given mission and fight with the Young.”

“At 13 or 14 you didn’t have the brains yet to make that decision,” Jango said, “no one does, despite that the old timers claim a Mando is grown by then.” Obi-Wan knew that most of the other people in his life agreed with that assessment. And looking back, Obi-Wan himself could see that he had been far too young. But so had the rest of the Young.

“Probably not,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Doesn’t change what happened though.” Jango snorted. 

“I understand that. Doesn’t really change my opinion of Jinn. Sort of reinforces it.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, and before long they arrived back at the hotel. Jango parked the speeder and secured it, and they headed up to their rooms. He walked a little closer to Obi-Wan than usual, and in the lift, put his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and leaned their heads together. 

“I promise not to be extra stubborn with Jinn just because I’m even more convinced he’s an asshole,” Jango promised. Obi-Wan let out a strained laugh. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. That was enough for him. It wasn’t like he could really change Jango’s mind once it was made up - as the man had said, he was a bit hard-headed. 

“Tomorrow Arla has physical therapy and doesn’t want visitors,” Jango said as they stepped off the lift, and Obi-Wan glanced over. He was getting a bit better at reading Jango’s body language through the armour. 

“Is that an invitation?” Obi-Wan asked to be sure.

“Yeah, that’s an invitation, let’s go out in the city again,” Jango suggested. Obi-Wan smiled and dipped his head slightly.

“I’d like that,” Obi-Wan said.

Simply walking through the clamouring city together as they had from the start of their time there always promised an interesting night. Both of their suits of armour were well known to the citizenry by now, but life as a Jedi had inured Obi-Wan to being stared at with curiosity, and Jango was just as accustomed to the feeling of eyes following him. The attention wasn’t hostile, and so they simply put up with it, knowing that either they would cease to be the most interesting topic of gossip, or they would move on at the end of the summit.

With the treaty between Jango and Satine finally taking shape, one of the Haat Mando’ade staying in the Oyu’baat with them as both security and adviser began visiting in the evenings. Lozee was a tall, green-skinned Rodian with complicated purple tattoos running over nearly their entire skull. A fierce fighter when needed, Lozee was also a skilled artist and one of Jango’s cultural advisors.

On those nights, Obi-Wan listened as Jango and Lozee talked about Jango’s motivations, accomplishments, and family history, all of which would influence components of the design Lozee was working on. Jango could remember the list of his ancestors back only a few generations with certainty, but family legend - and Mando history - claimed Khomo Fett, who had followed Te Gra’tua’yc Mand’alor, as one of his forefathers, along with a few other famous heroes. His own achievements were more well documented. 

“So - tattoos,” Obi-Wan asked one night, fingers trailing gently over the shield-and-banners sigil on Jango’s broad chest. The past few evenings, Jango had laid still under Lozee’s hands after late-meal, and on his forehead and cheeks an intricate design was slowly taking shape. There was no guide, no cartoon, simply Lozee’s vision and knowledge of the traditional lines and symbols, the information from the conversations between Lozee and Jango, and the small sharp blade and ink used to make the marks. 

“This is Jaster’s symbol,” Jango said, his fingers entangling with Obi-Wan’s on his chest. “I had it done with his permission when he adopted me. It’s not - there are two classes of tattoos. This is just regular tattooing, like you could have done anywhere in the galaxy - ink drawings, not sacred marks. I only asked permission because I was still technically underage, and it felt like the polite thing to do. He understood though, how badly I needed something more than his word that I was safe, and he was going to look after me, raise me properly. The one Lozee’s doing on my face - that’s _sur’atiin_ , sacred designs of my achievements and lineage. It used to be that there were days of rituals involved. Some still follow that tradition.” He shrugged. “My mother had her face done with the sur’atiin,” he said, touching his lips and chin in memory of his mother’s markings. “My father never did, even though technically he was of a more prestigious lineage.

“I’d thought about it, but it never really seemed to fit for me before. Now though - I know I can defend my aliit. The sur’atiin - part of that is acceptance, reflection. The designs have meaning too,” Jango continued. “Of course, any idiot can get a tattoo. It only gains the significance if you give it that, if you do the rituals and believe it’s sacred. It’s something we’ve been doing for generations, although it’s more common among those born Mando than among cin vhetin.”

“But not forbidden for cin vhetin?” Obi-Wan asked to be clear. 

“Not forbidden,” Jango assured. “You’re Mando now after all. Do you want marks?”

“I want - I want to carry part of you with me when I’m away from you,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “I’m - I’m not ready to swear oaths yet, but I want - I need to have more than just a memory of you.”

“Then we’ll talk to the gotal’ur sur’atiin,” Jango said simply. “But be aware that it does hurt. A lot. And taking that pain, that’s part of the process.” Obi-Wan nodded. While Jango had been silent while Lozee worked, Obi-Wan could sense his partner’s intense pain, and his willingness to take that pain, his resolve not to cry out, to hold perfectly still as each line was hand-carved into his flesh and inked. Thankfully, Lozee also believed in bacta, and so the pain didn’t linger through a long healing.

It took Obi-Wan a few days of meditation and careful thought. The sur’atiin was obviously significant, and he didn’t want to make an arbitrary decision about something so important. Regular tattooing was something else of course, but even that - sure, he could have the design lasered off if he changed his mind, but Obi-Wan had never been one to make that sort of decision lightly. 

Sur’atiin, Obi-Wan eventually decided, would come later or maybe not at all. But he would have a tattoo done before he left Mandalore, as commemoration of his inclusion in the clan. After a few discussions between Jango, Lozee, and Obi-Wan, reviewing what Obi-Wan was thinking about, Lozee was happy to do the work, although since it was simple tattooing rather than sur’atiin, they would use a standard tattoo gun instead of the traditional blades. Jango was pleased too, as the design included the sigil of the Haat Mando’ade - a clear and obvious declaration of Obi-Wan’s loyalty to both Jango and the clan.

When Obi-Wan and Jan left Keldabe, Obi-Wan did so with a simple inscription on his left arm; _aliit ori’shya tal’din_ , family is more important than blood, and on his shoulder, the shield-and-banners sigil of the Haat Mando’ade. He also wore beskar’gam instead of Jedi robes, the armourweave flight suit dyed black, and the durasteel plates painted deep green. On one shoulder pauldron the Jedi Order’s symbol was painted in sky blue. On the other shoulder, the Haat Mando’ade shield-and-banners were painted in the same blue. The green stood for duty - to the Order and to his clan. The blue was for reliability, a trait Obi-Wan had always tried to cultivate. The black represented justice, a value prized by Jedi and Mando alike.

The Jedi took the treaty ratified by Duchess Kryze and Mand’alor Fett with them when they returned to Coruscant. Each recognized the other’s title - the Duchess giving up her pretense that she might ever call the clans together for war, and the Mand’alor accepting the need for a civil governor to administer the bureaucracy. The Duchess promised not to outlaw arms or armour when she took her throne in Sundari, and the Mand’alor promised not to make war against the pacifist New Mandalorians. The Duchess would see to the daily administration of the planet and sector, and the Mand’alor would oversee planetary defense, and help Journeyman Protectors throughout the sector when they needed more firepower to solve a problem.

It had been harder for the two leaders to reach an agreement on how Mando’ade would interact with the rest of the galaxy. Trade, they agreed, would be overseen by the Duchess’ civil administration. She would also oversee diplomacy, including the staffing of the Mando Embassy on Coruscant, as Mandalore and its client worlds were not members of the Republic. 

War would be Jango’s purview. He had won concessions from Satine acknowledging that bounty hunting and for-profit security were viable businesses, and that pursuing a career in those fields was not illegal - either in Mando space or Republic space. The Duchess acknowledged that the Supercommando Codex that the Haat Mando’ade already operated by was an acceptable code of conduct, as it banned killing outside of a narrow set of constraints such as legal bounty-hunting, mercenary work, and self-defense.

If war was made against the Mando’ade, it would be Jango who answered. The Haat Mando’ade would likely make up the backbone of the Mando military, although they were not acknowledged as the standing military of the Mando nation. The Haat Mando’ade would remain a mercenary company, and when they were contracted as a mercenary company, they would not represent the will of the Mando state. 

Death Watch was recognized as a terrorist organization by both the Haat Mando’ade and the New Mandalorians, and the members were officially prohibited from meeting together or operating as a mercenary company, bounty-hunting, or holding any public office. Neither Jango nor the Duchess wanted young Mando’ade growing up with the idea that might made right. Haat Mando’ade were given a certain amount of leeway to conduct raids on Death Watch installments when and where they were found, so long as a serious attempt was made to capture the Death Watch partisans and surrender them to the Journeyman Protectors who protected and policed the populace.

Members of Death Watch who hadn’t committed any egregious crimes, like murder, kidnapping, or arson - members like Bo-Katan Kryze - would be able to turn themselves in to Journeyman Protectors with limited repercussions. Many of them, Jango and Satine both understood, were teenagers who had been indoctrinated with the Death Watch ideology as children. If they had committed no crimes save belonging to the organization, they would be carefully watched over and educated, and eventually re-integrated into Mando society after numerous evaluations.

The night before Obi-Wan and his Master left Keldabe, there was a small party for the delegates and advisors to celebrate the conclusion of the talks and the ratification of the treaty. Before it started, Obi-Wan and Jango went by the hospital, so Obi-Wan could say goodbye to Arla, and hug her one more time. She smiled when they walked in, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile in turn. 

“Look after him, won’t you,” Obi-Wan requested softly, and Arla nodded, hugging him.

“I will,” Arla promised, and they exchanged comm codes to keep in touch. “Have fun tonight,” she directed. “Do all the things I can’t.” Obi-Wan grinned, and nodded. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Jango told her, and Arla nodded. She understood that he had an obligation to be at the celebration that night - and a desire to spend time with Obi-Wan before the Jedi left for Coruscant. 

As they crossed the city back to the Oyu’baat, it was clear that the rest of Keldabe was celebrating as well. Fireworks lit the sky every so often, and the doors of every cantina stood open, revelers spilling out into the streets. Occasionally someone on the street would notice Obi-Wan and Jango on their speeder, and wave enthusiastically. Obi-Wan was certain that they were celebrating in Sundari too, and on the other planets in the Mando sector that had been drawn into the clans’ warring.

At the hotel, the celebration was more in line with the political wining-and-dining Obi-Wan often saw on diplomatic missions, rather than the louder merry-making he was familiar with from spending time among the Haat Mando’ade or out in the city of Keldabe. Arms and armour weren’t in the dress code, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the faces Jango pulled as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his tailored jacket. 

Representatives of all the planets in the Mando sector were there, along with Jango and the Duchess’ advisors. The food was delicious, plate after plate of various bite-sized delicacies. _Skraan’ikase_ , Jango called them, the traditional food of celebration, since they took so long to prepare - and so many had to be eaten before a body felt full.

Obi-Wan greeted everyone he needed to among the visiting dignitaries, making polite conversation. Once he had fulfilled his diplomatic obligations though, he retreated to talk more with the Haat Mando’ade. Lorn had mentioned a good holonet site for accessing Mando music the night before, and Obi-Wan also still needed to get Silas’ comm frequency. 

The celebration lasted a few hours before the dignitaries began filtering out. The Duchess and her advisors left promptly at the time stated as the end of the reception on the invitations, and then it was only the Haat Mando’ade. Someone placed a call to the kitchens, and serving droids appeared with more alcohol. Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling. 

“How about we take our drinks upstairs?” Jango suggested, appearing at Obi-Wan’s elbow with a pair of beer bottles. Obi-Wan bit his lower lip and glanced around, then nodded. 

“Let me say goodbye to the others,” Obi-Wan said, and Jango grinned, then caught Silas’ eye and waved. Silas nodded, and Jango ducked out the door. Obi-Wan made the rounds once more, saying goodbye to Lorn and the Ruusans, Myles, and finally Silas. He made sure he had their comm frequencies, and was introduced to Ruusan Aver’s girlfriend Kyra Onyo, an artist who had flown in from Shukut to see her. It took Obi-Wan about half an hour to say a few words to those he had come to think of as friends, and then he slipped upstairs for his private goodbye with Jango. 

In their bedroom, Jango was already changed into the loose drawstring pants he slept in. He glanced up with a smile as Obi-Wan entered, and put away the ‘pad he had been reading.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing thickly. 

“See something you like?” Jango teased. Obi-Wan flushed, nodding as he unfastened his utility belt. He stepped out of his boots, then shrugged out of his tunics and tabards. At the edge of the bed he paused, then shucked off his leggings, underwear, and socks before climbing on the mattress and leaning in to kiss Jango. Jango let out a low, pleased sound, sweeping his hands up Obi-Wan’s back to hold his head in place. Shifting carefully, Obi-Wan straddled Jango’s thighs and settled there as they kissed. 

One of Jango’s hands slid down Obi-Wan’s spine, pausing briefly in the hollow of his back, then cupping his buttocks and urging him in closer. Obi-Wan rolled his hips as he shifted, rubbing them together. Pulling back slightly, he opened his eyes, setting Jango’s face to memory. He rolled his hips again, and Jango groaned, hand clenching on Obi-Wan’s ass. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan breathed, and Jango looked up at him searchingly. “Yes, I want you in me tonight,” Obi-Wan assured more firmly. Jango’s eyes roved over his face, and then Jango nodded. 

“Condom?” Jango asked. 

“Do I have one or should we use one?”

“Both.”

“Yes to both then. Utility belt.” 

Jango nodded and rose from the bed, dumping Obi-Wan off his lap. Obi-Wan huffed, watching Jango’s strong thighs and firm ass. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s utility belt from the floor and tossed it onto the foot of the bed, then went into the ‘fresher to grab the lube. Returning to the bed, Jango kissed Obi-Wan deeply, then gently urged him over onto his belly. 

“Okay?” Jango asked, rubbing a slick finger against Obi-Wan’s anus. 

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan panted, then moaned as Jango pushed his finger in. Jango teased Obi-Wan open steadily, stroking his prostate and carefully stretching his rim. Obi-Wan keened softly, riding against Jango’s finger. Before long, Jango could add a second, then a third. Obi-Wan kept himself as relaxed as possible, knowing that would ease the process. 

“Almost ready,” Jango reassured, and leaned down to brush kisses over Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulders. 

“Ready,” Obi-Wan prompted a few moments later. “Please.” He heard the condom packet tear, and Jango’s sharply drawn breath as he rolled the condom on. Jango pressed against him, the crown of his cock slick with lube. Obi-Wan pushed back, moaning as his body accepted the intrusion. With a slow, deep thrust, Jango was in to the hilt, leaning close so his chest blanketed over Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Fuck,” Jango breathed against Obi-Wan’s ear, and Obi-Wan let out a strained laugh. “Feels so good cyar’ika,” Jango said, and kissed the corner of Obi-Wan’s jaw. He held his position for a few deep, shuddering breaths. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Obi-Wan affirmed, and clenched around him. Jango let out a strangled groan at that. 

“None of that,” Jango gasped, “You’re already testing my self control, I want this to be good for both of us.”

“Yeah, okay,” Obi-Wan managed to get out, and then his arms collapsed under him as Jango withdrew, pitching his upper body down closer to the bed as he caught himself on his elbows. Jango swore, his hips beginning to rock against Obi-Wan’s. The short, rolling thrusts lengthened and built until he was pistoning deep and hard into Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan moaned eagerly, pushing back in counterpoint. 

“Fuck,” Jango gasped, and his hips stuttered. He fucked hard into Obi-Wan for a few mores strokes, then swore again, burying himself to the root as he came. Wrapping himself around Obi-Wan, Jango reached down, fondling Obi-Wan’s cock before wrapping his fingers around it and beginning to stroke. Obi-Wan keened, and with a few pulls, came. Jango stroked him through orgasm, then eased back, pulling out. 

“Jango?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Just grabbing a washcloth,” Jango promised, and padded to the ‘fresher to get rid of the condom and clean himself off. He brought a damp washcloth back with him for Obi-Wan. Once Obi-Wan was clean, Jango tossed the cloth back toward the ‘fresher, then climbed into the bed. They curled together away from the wet spot. “Okay?” Jango asked. 

“Normally I’d say better than okay, but I’m leaving in the morning,” Obi-Wan said, hugging Jango’s arm where it banded his torso. Jango kissed Obi-Wan’s shoulder. 

“We’ll see one another again,” Jango murmured. 

“And until then, there’s comms,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Doesn’t make it that much easier.” Jango huffed softly, and kissed Obi-Wan’s shoulder again. Obi-Wan lifted Jango’s hand, and kissed his palm. “Be careful,” he urged quietly. 

“I will,” Jango promised. “You too. Listen to the old man.” Obi-Wan let out a soft snort, but nodded. “Time will go quick, we’ll barely have time to get bored,” Jango said, and Obi-Wan nodded again.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Obi-Wan mumbled, yawning. 

“Sleep,” Jango murmured.

“Don’t want to,” Obi-Wan replied sleepily. “Don’t want to miss any time with you.”

“Sleep cyar’ika, I’m here with you,” Jango said, and shifted to lean over Obi-Wan and kiss his cheek. Obi-Wan drifted off, and Jango wasn’t far behind him.

They woke hours later to the sounds of the city waking up outside, and Jango kissed Obi-Wan’s cheek again, then stood and went to wash up. Obi-Wan rose and stuffed his discarded robes from the night before into his pack. They dressed quietly in their armour, then met at the bedroom door and kissed, sweet and slow. 

“May the Force be with you, ner Jetii,” Jango said softly when they parted. Obi-Wan smiled. 

“And also with you,” Obi-Wan replied. “Urcye mhi,” he said, and Jango smiled.

“Urcye mhi,” Jango echoed. They walked out of the bedroom, and found Dooku, Myles and Silas waiting in silence. Quietly they left the hotel, a few more Mando’ade joining their party. They traveled to the spaceport in silence, and there, the Mando’ade escorted Dooku and Obi-Wan to the transport they would take back to Coruscant. 

“Ret’urcye mhi, Mand’alor,” Dooku said, and bowed. At his side, Obi-Wan bowed as well.

“Ret’urcye mhi, Jetiise,” Jango returned, and dipped his head in respect. 

The Jedi turned, and walked up the loading ramp. The Haat Mando’ade waited, watching, until the ramp slowly closed, and the transport lumbered up into the air, bound for Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arla and her captivity are or were canon, although in this ‘verse she is found and freed much earlier, and therefore isn’t stockholm syndrome-d into becoming a Death Watch supporter and assassin.
> 
> I didn’t want to use the Māori terms _moko_ and _kirituhi_ to distinguish two types of tattoos - the first sacred and the second more the ‘pictures in ink’ variety - in fic, as I do not think it is accurate to do a straight Mando = Māori analogue, because that’s clearly not the case in GFFA canon, despite that it’s clear in-universe that tattoos are important to the clones and that’s likely an inheritance from the Mando culture. 
> 
> My research was fairly limited due to the nature of what I could find online, and I didn’t want to simply import an important aspect of Māori culture, especially as an outsider unlikely to fully understand all the implications. Moko are sacred to Māori people, but it is not historically forbidden for Pākehā Māori to have moko when they were living among Māori as accepted members of the clan/village/group, so I felt that this was something that translated into Mando culture, since there is a canon cultural tradition of adoption and starting fresh after adoption. Here is more info on Tā moko from wikipedia, and here is more [on moko from Tourism New Zealand](http://media.newzealand.com/en/story-ideas/ta-moko-significance-of-maori-tattoos/%E2%80%9D). Alternately this blogger says moko are solely by and for Māori in modern times, but non-Māori are welcome to have Māori-inspired tattoos as long as they aren’t calling them moko.
> 
> **Mando’a:**  
>  Buir = parent  
> Cin vhetin = fresh start / clean slate - when you become Mando your past is wiped clean. You start fresh  
> Gotal’ur sur’atiin = tattoo maker  
> ‘Ika = diminutive suffix  
> Jai’galaar = shriek hawk. The sigil of Clan Vizsla and Death Watch.  
> Jate vercope = good dreams  
> Jetii = Jedi (pl. Jetiise)  
> Jet’ika = little Jedi  
> Mi’vaar ti gar? = How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal.. The response for *I'm fine thanks,* is *Naas.* (Literally - nothing. )  
> Naak’sarade = peace flowers  
> Ni partayli = I remember you  
> Ret’urcye mhi = Goodbye - lit. *Maybe we'll meet again*  
> Shabuire = extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger. Plural.   
> Skraan’ikase = assorted small snacks like meze or tapas - *small eats* - a celebratory meal for Mandos because it can take hours to eat, and the dishes are often fiddly, a contrast to the easy-to-eat, quick meals necessary in the field  
> Su’cuy = hi. Colloquial from su cuy’gar = hello (lit. “you’re still alive”)  
> Su'cuyi = I’m still alive  
> Su cuy’gar = hello. Lit. “You’re still alive.”  
> Sur’atiin = author’s best attempt at ‘forever drawing’ aka tattoo but specifically one with Mando cultural meaning   
> Urcye mhi = we'll meet again (modified from the regular goodbye)   
> Vod = sibling. In this specific instance, Arla’vod is a nickname Jango has given his sister Arla, and is a bit of a play on ori’vod, which means ‘older sibling.’


	6. Chapter 6

After Galidraan, it seemed like Jan and Obi-Wan went rapidly from one conflict to the next, with hardly a pause for rest between. Obi-Wan grew devastatingly practiced at jar’kai, the Darksaber becoming as familiar to him as the ‘saber he’d built when he became Jan’s Padawan - the ‘saber he was rapidly outgrowing. Obi-Wan had modified his original ‘saber a few times over the years, but after nearly losing it during the fighting on Yinchorr a few months after leaving Keldabe, Obi-Wan and Jan took a much needed trip to the Temple’s crystal vault.

Obi-Wan entirely rebuilt his blue-bladed lightsaber, reworking the hilt to better suit his dual-wielding tendencies. He also built a new hilt for the Darksaber while he had access to the components, both to better fit his off-hand and to modulate the power of the unique crystal using technologies the Vizlas wouldn’t have had access to. Placing the Darksaber’s crystal in a new hilt would also protect Obi-Wan from aspirants who thought taking it off him would earn them the title Mand’alor. The distinctive hilt was sent back to Jango in a well-secured parcel.

_Su’cuy Jango_ , began the message Obi-Wan sent with the old hilt. _Please find the signature hilt of the Darksaber enclosed. I thought it would be safer with you - have built a new hilt that suits me better for jar’kai - that’s Jedi for dual-wielding, it’s technically part of the Niman form, not my usual Soresu, but most forms have alternates for non-standard weaponry._

_Master’s been giving more solo duties, grumbling about how soon he’ll have to make his own tea in the mornings. I’ve begun working on some armour upgrades since Master’s sending me out on my own more - likely in preparation for my trials. Long range comms, touching up the paint job - still green with blue and black, just making sure my sigils are legible. Need to top off the fluid for my liquid-cable line._

_I don’t know what he’ll do once I’m a Knight - probably terrorize Madame Nu in the archives, they like bickering at one another, and I think he’s missed their arguments. I miss you - we’ll probably be out on a mission again soon, but as soon as I finish wiring in the new hardware I’ll send you an update on my comm so you’ll have my personal frequency. Until then - ret’, Obi-Wan._

“Are you so surprised?” Jango commed back when he received the package. “You’re going to be a magnificent Jetii, kal’redul.” Obi-Wan smiled at the message and sent a quick reply. 

Rather to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he had barely completed his ‘sabers and the repairs and upgrades to his beskar’gam when Dooku recommended him for Knighthood, less than a year after their mission to Galidraan. They had been discussing it more, and Obi-Wan had been aware he was being prepared for his Trials. There had even been a few solo missions, and when he went out with Dooku, Obi-Wan was being trusted to work alone for the most part. That didn’t mean Obi-Wan wasn’t still taken a bit by surprise when, at the close of one of their usual post-mission debriefings, Dooku stepped up before the High Council and said: 

“Esteemed Councilors, I would be honoured to petition for my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, to be Tried for Knighthood. He has learned all I can teach him and more, and has proven to me his readiness to face the Trials and Rise a Knight.” 

“Many things you have taught this Padawan,” Yoda agreed, and Obi-Wan thought the ancient Master likely didn’t approve of all those things. The Force knew Dooku had only strengthened Obi-Wan’s natural stubbornness, and instilled in him a willingness to question tradition that was observed solely for the sake of tradition. Neither were particularly appreciated by the Council. In Dooku’s estimation though, those traits were part of what would make Obi-Wan an excellent Jedi. 

“I have,” Dooku agreed without shame. 

“See we will, if enough to make a Jedi Knight that is,” Yoda finally said after a drawn out silence. “In three days time, at dawn, to the Chamber of Trail will Padawan Kenobi report. May the Force be with him.” 

Obi-Wan bowed low, then exited, knowing a dismissal when he heard it. If he was going to be taking his trials for Knighthood, he had meditations to undertake in preparation. 

“Why now?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but asking his Master when they were in the lift heading back down into the main Temple. Dooku smiled, reaching out and tugging gently on Obi-Wan’s braid.

“You’ve always been willing to fight for what you believe in,” Jan said. “But since we returned from Galidraan - you’ve begun to fight for yourself, too.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. While he would always think of himself as a Jedi first, he was proud also to claim the clanship of the Haat Mando’ade immediately after that. Willingness to defend his visible ties to Mandalore proved that Obi-Wan believed in himself, too. Since adopting the beskar’gam, Obi-Wan had argued his beliefs against those Jedi who made derogatory mention of Obi-Wan’s observance of Mando cultural norms, happily citing centuries of Jedi doctrine that allowed for - even encouraged - the adherence to traditional garb and sociocultural mores for any being in the Order who had the desire, including Mirialan tattooing, Kel Dor embroidery, Chalactan Enlightenment, and the prevalence of Togruta, Twi’lek, and Tholothian headdresses among Jedi. Given his skill at debate, no one argued against Obi-Wan for long, much to his Master’s amusement. 

“You won’t know what to do without me,” Obi-Wan teased, giving Dooku a slightly watery smile.

“I’m thinking a vacation sounds nice. I’m due for a meditation retreat, I think,” Dooku said, his own smile just as wobbly. He reached out, patting Obi-Wan’s armoured shoulder. “You have truly surpassed all my expectations Obi-Wan, and you more than anyone know how very demanding my expectations are.” Obi-Wan flushed, wishing he had on his helmet to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“I do,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Go on, comm Jango, I need to meditate on where to take my well-earned vacation.”

Obi-Wan grinned, and nodded. When the lift reached the appropriate floor, Obi-Wan exited to return to their quarters. Mentally, he ran through a checklist as he walked. Skill, Courage, Spirit, Flesh, Insight. Those were the Trials to become a Jedi Knight. What actually occurred in the Chamber of Trial was rarely spoken of, a deeply personal experience for each Jedi. When it was over though, if he succeeded, there would be further meditation, then a formal ceremony where his braid was cut and he was officially given the title - and responsibilities - of a Jedi Knight.

Sitting down in front of the datasuite, Obi-Wan entered the frequency for Jango’s personal comm. In the past months, they had conversed at least once a week. Obi-Wan could spend hours talking with his lover if they had the time for it, and he was well aware that beyond their attraction to one another, they were also something of a mutual admiration society.

Obi-Wan had just as regular if less frequent holos from other members of the clan he’d met in Keldabe, sometimes just sharing things they’d seen or done, other times keeping him updated on the goings-on of the clan. Arla was always glad to talk to him, and she was the one Obi-Wan asked about Mando culture and traditions outside of war. She was happy to explain the usual progression of courtships, and teased incessantly that his and Jango’s relationship was a betrothal in everything but name - she even took to quizzing him on the Mando marriage vows, a series of four lines that were all it took to solemnize a union between two Mando’ade. There was usually a party too, as the Mando would throw a party for almost any reason, but the vows themselves were all that were required to bind two lives together. The regular contact helped in getting to know Jango even better, and in developing friendships with some of the Haat Mando’ade. Most of those Obi-Wan spoke with were Jango’s friends too, and they were always happy to tell tales about Jango’s younger years.

“Su’cuy,” Obi-Wan greeted when the comm connected on Jango’s personal frequency. He knew that if Jango had picked up rather than letting it go to the answering service, that meant Jango had at least a few minutes to talk.

“Su’cuy,” Jango returned. “Something big must have happened, since you’re calling off schedule.” Obi-Wan grinned, and shrugged. Some news just couldn’t wait for their scheduled weekly holo-date.

“Master’s nominated me for my trials,” Obi-Wan said, eager to share the news. “I know you’ve been teasing me that it’s about to happen for at least a month now, but I was still a little surprised.”

“Congratulations!” Jango said with a broad grin. “I - have no idea what that entails?” Obi-Wan laughed.

“We’ve never really talked about it, have we?” Obi-Wan asked. “There are five trials - Skill, Courage, Spirit, Flesh, and Insight. Beyond that - it’s hard to say. There’s sort of a - Jedi cultural taboo against talking about what you experience in your trials. I mean - we all know that they take place in the Chamber of Trail, and that you’re only allowed the standard field kit inside.” He paused, shrugging. 

“If you survive-”

“Hold on!” Jango interjected. “ _Survive_?” Obi-Wan let out a small, slightly nervous laugh.

“I mean - it’s not common, hasn’t happened in - 500 years? I think? But yeah, Padawans have died in the Chamber of Trial. Being a Jedi isn’t exactly a safe profession,” Obi-Wan reminded. Jango let out a low sound of displeasure. “Anyway, if you survive and pass, you win yourself at least a full day of meditation, and then they cut your braid and turn you out of the Temple for a year or two to run yourself ragged on solo missions,” Obi-Wan continued. “I mean - not really, but the first few years of knighthood are generally spent more outside the Temple than in, getting experience, making sure you can actually do the job.”

“What happens when they fail? Not the trials - those first years as Knights?” Jango asked.

“Jedi fail all the time, Jango,” Obi-Wan reminded. “The same thing happens when new Knights find trouble as when any Jedi does. If they survive the mission, they come back to the Temple, and when they’re healed and ready again, they put their name back on the mission roster. If they have injuries or trauma that prevent them taking off-world missions, they find something they can do on-planet. If they can’t leave the Temple, they find a calling in the Temple. Some decide being a Knight isn’t their path, and find a calling in one of the Service Corps. A few leave the Order, but that’s pretty rare. And - we’re very good at surviving.”

“You are,” Jango said, but Obi-Wan could hear the caution in his voice.

“Jango, I was 13 when I fought for the Young. I wasn’t even half-trained, and had neither my lightsaber nor the authority of the Order. I came back too skinny and pissed off, but I came back. And I’ll always do my best to come back. I have a lot to live for. A lot to fight for.”

“I worry,” Jango admitted.

“So do I,” Obi-Wan reminded. 

“Fair,” Jango said, tone gone warm with affection. “So you get through the trials, you sit still and think until your shebs hurt, they cut your hair, and then off you go?”

“I mean, usually there’s at least one party in there,” Obi-Wan said with a laugh. “But yeah, that’s more or less the standard pattern.”

“And your trials?”

“Start in three days at dawn. There’s no set period for how long they might last.”

“Alright, I can get there in a week. Hopefully I’ll see you shortly after that.” 

“You don’t have to come.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve always wanted to see a Jetii party though,” Jango said. “Jate’kara cyar’ika. Ret’.”

“Ret’,” Obi-Wan replied with a fond smile, and closed the comm.

* * *

Obi-Wan emerged from the Chamber of Trial the same day he entered, as darkness settled over Coruscant. Dooku was there to greet him and engulf him in a welcoming hug. Obi-Wan sagged against his Master, exhausted but elated. They went together up to the Council Chamber, and there Obi-Wan’s hopes were affirmed. He would be Knighted, the ceremony to take place the very next night. Dooku smiled proudly, and escorted Obi-Wan to the Tranquility Spire, where he would meditate through the night and the entire next day.

In his meditations, Obi-Wan contemplated many things. The Force. Life. Death. Balance. Given his training, he would likely be given mostly diplomatic missions, and he looked forward to the new places he would see, the beings he would meet. There was so much good to be done, out there. So many beings that, Force willing, he could help.

When dusk fell once more, a soft chime sounded in the meditation chamber. Obi-Wan rose, and ascended to the Hall of Knighthood above. The room was dark when Obi-Wan entered, as dictated by tradition. He could feel his Master’s presence, and that of the Masters of the High Council. Obi-Wan knelt. A long moment passed as those present focused their minds on the reason for their presence, then he heard the distinctive _snap-hum_ of a lightsaber activating. The short, green blade of Master Yoda lit first. The sound spread rapidly, until a circle of glowing blades surrounded Obi-Wan.

“All Jedi, we are,” Yoda said solemnly. “Speak through us, the Force does. Itself, and what is real, the Force proclaims through our actions. Acknowledge, do we here today, what proclaimed, the Force has. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi, Knight of the Republic I dub thee, by the right of the Council, by the will of the Force.”

As he spoke the final proclamation, Yoda lowered his lightsaber over each of Obi-Wan’s shoulders in turn. A soft sizzle, and the scent of hair burning, and his long learner’s braid was severed. Obi-Wan caught the plait as it fell, then dipped his head in acknowledgment. 

“Rise a Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Dooku said, low and proud from behind Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan rose, turning to hug his Master, then press the braid into his hands. 

“Thank you for your tutelage, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “I would be honoured if you would accept this small token of my appreciation.” Dooku nodded, smiling proudly. Giving one’s braid to their Master was not an official tradition, but it was a well-known acknowledgement of the bond between mentor and student. 

“I am honoured to accept,” Jan said, and hugged Obi-Wan again. “There’s someone waiting for you at the Sunrise tapcafe,” he said quietly, then pulled back. “Your friends will be waiting to take you celebrating, I imagine.” 

“Thank you Master,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, then turned back to the others, and bowed deeply. “Masters,” he said, and barely waited for them to dip their heads in return before he headed back to his quarters. In the apartment, Obi-Wan quickly filed the appropriate forms to have a droid pack his things while he was out for the night, and arranged a billet in the Knights’ dormitories. 

Obi-Wan showered, then stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. Jedi Knight. He’d fought for the right to earn that title. And he’d earned it. He still looked like a Padawan with this awful hair-do though. Opening the cabinet, Obi-Wan pulled out the clippers and shaved down the sides and back to a scant, pale stubble, leaving a longer brush-cut over the top of his head. Many Mando favoured a similar style, shaved on the sides and back but longer on top, to combat helmet sweat. Obi-Wan smiled at his reflection, then brushed off the loose hair, cleaned up and dressed in his beskar’gam, with his matching lightsaber hilts at his hips.

In the entrance to the Temple closest to the air-taxis, Obi-Wan wasn’t in the least surprised to find his friends Garen and Quinlan. Garen was still a Padawan, but he would likely be knighted soon himself. Quinlan had been Knighted a few years before, and Obi-Wan along with many of their other agemates had gotten incredibly drunk for the occasion. Unless Obi-Wan missed his guess, Quin was still holding onto the holopics in case he ever needed blackmail.

“Knight Kenobi!” Garen and Quinlan greeted in boisterous synchrony, and Obi-Wan grinned inside his helmet, shaking his head. 

“Newest Knight doesn’t have to pay for their own drinks,” Obi-Wan said. 

“That’s only the rule when I’m the newest Knight, Obes,” Quinlan argued. 

“Nope, it’s the rule, you cited precedent after your knighting and therefore set precedent for all our knightings.”

“Ugh, diplomats,” Quin complained, and sprawled himself into the skycar. “So where are we going?”

“Sunrise tapcafe, Little Keldabe,” Obi-Wan told the droid at the steering yoke, and Garen sat up in slight alarm. 

“Hold on,” Garen said. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big bad Mando’ade. Don’t you want to meet Jango?” Obi-Wan asked with false innocence.

“You mean your Mando boyfriend isn’t just made up?” Quin teased. 

“Yeah, totally made up that I’m dating the Mand’alor, right,” Obi-Wan said, pushing at Quin’s shoulder. Predictably, Quin toppled over dramatically. They teased and talked through the rest of the ride, and Garen paid for the taxi as they climbed out.

Little Keldabe was a hundred levels and about a hundred square blocks of Mandalore tucked away in the lower mid-levels of Coruscant. There were arms and armour dealers, shops selling Mando foods and spices, and tapcafes by the hundred. They had Mando’a-first schools that taught by the Resol’nare, shooting ranges, martial arts studios, and tattoo shops with certified gotal’ure sur’atiin.

The Sunrise tapcafe wasn’t particularly notable for any reason other than being Jango’s favourite. When Obi-Wan entered, flanked by his friends in their modified Jedi robes - Garen wearing a synthleather pilot’s jacket over his field-duty tunics and tabards, Quin in the standard tunics and tabards with the arms cut away to show his bright yellow Kiffar tattoos against his brown skin - the Falleen at the bar just pointed them towards the back, where there were private rooms.

“Cuir, Jetiise,” the Falleen directed. 

“Vor’e,” Obi-Wan returned, and led his friends through the crowd. Inside room four, Jango, Myles, and Silas sat, with a few of the other Haat Mando’ade Obi-Wan knew fairly well - Ruusan Rook who had been one of the squad leaders when they raided the Death Watch compound on Concordia, Lozee Cheeso who had inked Obi-Wan’s tattoo in Keldabe, and even Arla was there, a new sur’atiin curling down her chin from her lower lip. Arrayed before them were pitchers of ne’tra gal, bottles of tihaar and other types of alcohol, and a plethora of plates full of bite-sized food. Their helmets were lined up near the door, and they turned almost as one when Obi-Wan and his Jedi friends entered. 

“Su’cuy,” Obi-Wan greeted with a broad smile as he pulled off his buy’ce. “This is Quin, this is Garen, and I apologize in advance for their behavior. Quin, Garen, you’re on your own.” Jango chuckled, and Myles, who had been sitting beside him, shifted over enough for Obi-Wan to settle between them.

“Jate bora,” Jango said fondly, laying his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Vor’e,” Obi-Wan returned, leaning in to press their foreheads together. Jango’s hand swept up his back to cup the nape of his neck and gently hold him in close, sharing breath between them. Obi-Wan breathed in, inhaling Jango’s scent, herbal and clean.

“They’re so cute!” Arla sighed teasingly, reaching across from Jango’s other side to ruffle Obi-Wan’s hair. 

“Hello, Arla,” Obi-Wan said, not pulling away from Jango. He felt the soft huff of Jango’s laughter, and grinned. Leaning in, he brought their mouths together for a brief kiss. “How long can you stay?” He asked Jango as he finally raised his head. 

“The company is between contracts, and so am I,” Jango said. “Depends on if anything comes up.” Obi-Wan grinned at that, and leaned in to kiss Jango again. 

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan declared, and settled against Jango’s side. “Don’t let Quin and Garen short you for their portion of the tab, newest Knight doesn’t pay.” 

“Hey,” Quin pouted, even as he poured himself a tall glass of ne’tra gal. 

“You’re the one who made the rule, Knight Vos,” Obi-Wan reminded primly. “Consequences, your actions have.” Garen snorted softly, but didn’t comment - he was planning to cite the same rule when it was his turn to be Knighted. Quin just stuck out his tongue, then raised his glass. 

“Here’s to you, Knight Kenobi - may the Force be with you.”

“And also with you, Knight Vos,” Obi-Wan replied, raising his glass in turn. They clinked the glasses together, caught one another’s eyes, grinned, and chugged the beer down as rapidly as possible. Obi-Wan finished first. 

“Force, what do you Mandos use to brew this stuff? I think I had to chew it!” Quin exclaimed, much to the amusement of the others. Obi-Wan just grinned. 

“I mean, if you can’t handle it,” Obi-Wan goaded, and Quin narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh, it is on, you little shit,” Quin promised, and poured them each another full glass of beer. 

“Oh no, we’re not starting this again,” Garen interceded, reaching out and taking the glasses out of Quin and Obi-Wan’s hands. “Last time you two had a drinking contest we ended up having to fight our way out of the bar. I’m not letting you _start_ the night with that nonsense.”

“Look at you, Garen, so responsible,” Quin teased, reaching out to ruffle Garen’s short-cropped dark hair. Garen ducked away from Quin’s hand, setting down the glasses to push the Kiffar away. Quin and Obi-Wan grabbed their beers back, but with Quin and Garen fussing with one another, Obi-Wan could settle back against Jango’s side and sip at his drink at a more civilized pace.

“They always like this?” Jango asked bemusedly. 

“More or less,” Obi-Wan said. “Quin’s the oldest of our little group, he’s been Knighted for a few years now. He refuses to let that make him act like a responsible adult about anything other than his actual duties though.” Jango snorted. “Garen’s the closest thing I have to a brother. He and Bant and Reeft grew up in the creche with me, and we’ve always been thick as thieves. When we were small, Garen and I looked so much alike we’d swap places to play pranks.” 

Jango looked between them in disbelief. Obi-Wan was slightly taller than Jango, and Garen was taller yet. While they were both on the paler end of the spectrum for humans, Garen was a bit more tanned, and his hair was a rich dark brown, where Obi-Wan’s was a paler russet colour. To Jango’s eye, they looked nothing alike, and he had trouble imagining them as near-twins.

“Remind me and I’ll send you an image,” Obi-Wan promised. Jango grinned.

“I look forward to it,” Jango said. On the other side of the table, Garen and Quin had stopped scuffling, and evidently decided that a drinking contest between the two of them was still acceptable, even if one between Quin and Obi-Wan was out. Obi-Wan didn’t mind too much - while a night out to celebrate one’s Knighting was common, it was the first time he’d seen Jango in person since Keldabe, and he intended to enjoy his lover’s company. 

The party was still going deep into the night when Jango and Obi-Wan slipped out - Quin was now trying to match drinks with Myles, and Garen and Lozee were armwrestling, with copious heckling from Arla. Jango nodded at Silas, who looked to be the only sober being in the room as they exited. Silas nodded back, accepting responsibility for the rest of the night. Obi-Wan and Jango went quietly through the back passage to the stairs, then up two floors to the room Jango had rented - like many tapcafes, the Sunrise was also an inn, more than willing to rent out rooms where patrons could sleep off their excesses.

Jango pulled Obi-Wan into the room, kissing him deeply. Obi-Wan answered eagerly, letting the helmet in his hand clatter to the floor as he pressed as close to Jango as their armour allowed. 

“Missed you,” Obi-Wan gasped when they parted. 

“Missed you too,” Jango said, and kissed Obi-Wan again. “And I like the hair.” Obi-Wan chuckled at that, pulling away slightly to start stripping out of his beskar’gam.

“I thought you might, since I cut it Mando-style. Just about anything is better than the Padawan-cut though. I’m pretty sure they do it just to keep us humble,” Obi-Wan joked. Jango snorted, shrugging out of his armour. Setting aside their beskar’gam, Obi-Wan and Jango stepped into one another’s space again. Obi-Wan slid his hands up Jango’s muscular arms to rest on his shoulders even as Jango’s hands found his hips, then curved around his flanks to grasp his buttocks. They pressed together, chest to chest and thigh to thigh, kissing slow and deep. 

Obi-Wan groaned into Jango’s mouth as Jango began to play with his ass, kneading the rounded muscle. Jango shifted, backing them towards the bed. Obi-Wan obliged, and soon toppled onto Jango’s chest as Jango went over backwards onto the mattress. Obi-Wan couldn’t help a giggle, pulling away to look down into Jango’s warm, dark eyes. 

“Mesh’la,” Jango said gruffly, bringing one of his hands up to trace his fingers lightly over Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan felt his face heat at the compliment, and leaned in to kiss Jango quiet. Jango’s hand spanned the back of Obi-Wan’s neck as the kiss deepened, their legs shifting so they could rub together. Jango squeezed his handful of Obi-Wan’s ass, then shifted slightly to tease at Obi-Wan’s crease. Obi-Wan moaned, pressing back into the light caress. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan panted in encouragement. Jango grinned, then reached under the pillow and produced a tube of slick. “Confident, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan teased, and Jango’s grin managed to get a bit wider. 

“Mmm, that’s why we don’t meet more often, ensures you’re horny every time we meet up,” Jango said. 

“Mir’sheb,” Obi-Wan said fondly, and kissed Jango again. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome.” Jango grinned. 

“I know we’ve both tested clean, but do you still want a condom?” Jango offered, even as he trailed a slicked finger between Obi-Wan’s asscheeks and began to gently stroke his rim. 

“No, no condom,” Obi-Wan decided breathlessly. He moaned a moment later as Jango’s finger eased inside him. Jango teased Obi-Wan open slowly, gently fucking him with a single finger, brushing lightly and without rhythm over his prostate until Obi-Wan was keening with need, his cock dripping. “More,” Obi-Wan finally demanded, and Jango easily slipped in a second finger and began to scissor and stretch. A third finger followed before long, and Obi-Wan began to push back eagerly, fucking himself on Jango’s hand. 

“Mesh’la,” Jango gasped, and eased his fingers free. Obi-Wan moaned softly, then shifted as Jango guided him, slowly impaling himself on Jango’s cock. Jango shifted slightly as Obi-Wan settled over him, setting his feet flat on the mattress so he could lift his hips. Obi-Wan squeezed around Jango’s thickness, then began to roll his hips. Jango groaned, squeezing his hand on Obi-Wan’s hip. “Mesh’la, ner cyar’ika,” he breathed, and Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss him. 

Jango held Obi-Wan’s mouth to his, their hips grinding together. They kissed messily now, panting into one another’s mouths as they chased ecstasy. Obi-Wan rode hard against Jango, moaning as he pushed back. Jango’s hand slipped from Obi-Wan’s hip, cupping his ass and squeezing, tracing where Obi-Wan was stretched around him. Obi-Wan keened, and Jango worked his hand between them, fisting Obi-Wan’s dripping cock, using his thumb to rub precome over the head. 

“Lek,” Obi-Wan gasped out, and Jango’s grip on his cock tightened just a bit, stroking faster. Obi-Wan choked out a moan, tossing his head back as he writhed against Jango. Jango leaned up, biting at Obi-Wan’s bared throat. “Nar dralshy’a,” Obi-Wan demanded, and Jango let out a disbelieving grunt, then gathered his legs under him and thrust up hard. Obi-Wan grunted, and a few rough thrusts later, he was coming, keening as he spent on Jango’s hand and belly. 

“Fuck,” Jango swore. He pumped into Obi-Wan a few more times, and then he was coming too, panting hard as he reached orgasm. “Fuck,” he breathed again, and pulled Obi-Wan in for another sloppy kiss. “Who the fuck taught you that?” he asked. 

“Did I say it wrong?” Obi-Wan, in the tone of voice that meant he knew he had surprised Jango, and was delighted about that development. 

“No, your pronunciation was perfect,” Jango said with a laugh. “I just didn’t ever expect to hear it _in bed_!”

“Worked though, didn’t it?” Obi-Wan said with a sly smile. Jango grinned and shook his head, pulling Obi-Wan in for a kiss. 

“Menace,” Jango complained fondly.

“Your menace,” Obi-Wan said, and Jango grinned. 

“Hmm, I like that,” Jango said. “Ner aaray’shebs.” Obi-Wan chuckled, nuzzling against Jango’s neck and kissing behind his ear.

“Lek,” Obi-Wan agreed. They lay curled together a little longer before Obi-Wan eased free and padded into the ‘fresher to clean up a bit. Jango bundled up the sheets and re-made the bed, then took his own turn in the ‘fresher. Both clean, they settled back into the bed, kissing and touching affectionately, but without the intent to arouse. 

When Jango woke in the morning, it was to the sight of a naked Jedi kneeling on the floor of his rented room and meditating. Knowing that his movement wouldn’t bother Obi-Wan, Jango rose and padded to the ‘fresher. By the time he was clean and dressed, Obi-Wan was blinking his eyes and stretching. 

“So what happens next?” Jango asked. They’d talked a little about what a new Knight might expect, but he liked hearing about Obi-Wan’s life. 

“Today, or in general?” Obi-Wan asked in turn. 

“Both,” Jango said with a shrug and a smile. 

“Today, we see how much damage our friends did downstairs and I drag Garen and Quin back to the Temple. If I’m not required for anything, I’d be happy to come back and spend some time with you. Master might have late meal plans for us at some point, but he didn’t mention anything specific. I’ll likely have my first solo mission within the week, so I want to spend what time I can with you before one or the other of us has to leave. I’ll probably be on back-to-back missions for a while unless I royally fuck up, but hopefully our paths will cross. It’s a big galaxy out there, though.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Jango said. “Let’s go see what they have for first meal.”

“Mmm, shig,” Obi-Wan said fondly, and Jango chuckled. 

They went back down to the main level of the tapcafe, and peered in the door of the private room they’d left their friends in the night before. Quin and Garen were both passed out among the Mando’ade, only Arla missing. Tapping his comm, Jango found a text message from Silas that Arla had gone up to bed a few hours after Jango and Obi-Wan left the party. Closing the door, Jango and Obi-Wan continued on to the main barroom of the tapcafe, where they found a Twi’lek presiding over the bar. They waved in greeting, pointing Obi-Wan and Jango at an empty booth. A serving droid soon came by with hot mugs of shig and the menu. 

“So how are we going to wake them all up?” Obi-Wan asked, and Jango gave him a mischievous grin. 

“Silas confiscated everyone’s gauntlets and weapons before he went to bed,” Jango said, and held up a sonic detonator.

“And you say _I’m_ a menace?” Obi-Wan said. 

“As if you wouldn’t do the same if you had a spare sonic detonator,” Jango scoffed. With that, he pulled off his gauntlets and fiddled with the detonator for a few minutes, so it would be obnoxious rather than deafening. 

“Fatalities are extra,” the droid told them, delivering their shig as Jango finished modifying the detonator. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll only wish they were dead,” Jango promised. 

“I’ll stay out here,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. Jango grinned, then stood. He sauntered down to the private room and tossed the sonic detonator inside, then closed the door. A muffled electronic shriek sounded a few seconds latter, followed shortly by the sound of nearly a dozen sentients tripping over themselves and cursing in alarm. 

“Good morning,” Jango greeted cheerily when Myles and Quinlan tumbled over each other, falling into the hallway. 

“I _hate_ you,” Quin groaned. 

“To the Dark side, hate leads,” Obi-Wan called, just loud enough to earn himself a narrow-eyed look of displeasure from his hungover friends.

“You - tell me there’s caff?” Quinlan begged, staggering into the main room. Obi-Wan shrugged, sipping at his hot shig. Quin groaned, collapsing next to Obi-Wan on the bench and draping himself over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, stealing a pancake off Obi-Wan’s plate. 

“The droid will bring you caff and food in there,” Jango said mildly, pointing back down the hall to the private room. Quinlan shrugged, and finished eating his stolen pancake before peeling himself off Obi-Wan’s side and staggering off again. Jango sat back down, shaking his head. “I’d complain about your taste in friends, but mine are just as bad,” he sighed.

“I’m not even going to try and defend them,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, and tucked into his meal. When he and Jango finished their food and shig, they joined the others in the party room. There were a few dark looks, but mostly the revelers were hungrily putting away their own meals. Silas and Arla came down to join them, and Silas laughed, quietly but for quite some time, when Myles grumped about their ‘wake up call.’ 

“Should have expected it,” Silas said with a shrug when Obi-Wan shot him an enquiring look. Obi-Wan shook his head at that, not too surprised. Jango had been far too practiced at modifying that sonic detonator for it to have been the first time he had re-set one to a lower decibel level. Jango grinned at that, and clapped Silas on the back. “I’m still in charge then?”

“You’re still in charge,” Jango agreed. It took a little while longer for Garen and Quinlan to finish up, but when they were done, Jango took them back to the Temple in the aircar the clan had rented for the duration of their visit to Coruscant. Once the two other Jedi were dropped off, Obi-Wan and Jango spent a little time sightseeing, but by mid-day they returned to the Sunrise and Jango’s room. They spent as long as they could immersed in one another, savouring the time they had before duty called once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Buy’ce = helmet  
> Cuir = four  
> Cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart  
> gotal’ure sur’atiin = tattoo artists   
> Jate’kara = luck, destiny - lit. good stars, a course to steer by)  
> Jetii = Jedi (pl. Jetiise)  
> Kal’redul = sword dancer from _kal_ (n.), blade and _redular_ (v.), to dance  
> Lek = yeah (from elek = yes)  
> Mesh’la = beautiful  
> Mir’sheb = wise ass  
> Nar dralshy’a = Put your back into it! Try harder!  
> Ner aaray’shebs = my pain-in-the-ass (from aaray = pain, shebs = ass)  
> Ner cyar’ika = my darling  
> Ne’tra gal = black ale - sweet, almost spicy black beer similar to milk stout  
> Ret’ = bye  
> Shebs = ass  
> Su’cuy = hi  
> Sur’atiin = author’s best attempt at ‘forever drawing’ aka tattoo but specifically one with Mando cultural meaning  
> Tihaar = alcoholic drink - strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie  
> Vor’e = thanks


	7. Chapter 7

Obi-Wan’s first mission as a Knight was fairly low pressure - an almost ceremonial renewal of a standing treaty between Furred and Unfurred Bimm. The two species had lived in peace for thousands of years, but a Jedi representative was still requested for renewals of the treaty. It was a duty almost uniformly performed by new Knights and doddering old Masters on the edge of retiring to quiet scholarship in the Temple. Obi-Wan spent a few days in transit, and then enjoyed a week on the beautiful planet of Bimmisaari, overseeing the rituals of the treaty renewal. Even better, since Bimmisaari was only a sector from Mandalore, Jango flew over to spend time with Obi-Wan.

“Su’cuy,” Jango greeted as Obi-Wan crossed the hotel lobby a few hours after he arrived, and Obi-Wan just stared for a long moment. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to practically beat me here,” Obi-Wan said in surprise. “Come on up, I dropped off my bag when I got here a few hours ago. Did you get a room?”

“Not yet. I guessed you’d be at this hotel since it’s the biggest, but I wasn’t sure,” Jango admitted. “My stuff is still on the ship.” Obi-Wan nodded. 

“I don’t think anyone will have a problem with you staying with me,” Obi-Wan offered, leading the way up to his room.

“If there is trouble, I can find a room of my own,” Jango said. “But I’d certainly be happier to share.” 

In Obi-Wan’s room, they turned to one another, touching helmets. 

“What does your schedule look like?” Jango asked, glancing at the little chairs, then sitting on the bed when he decided the delicate construction wasn’t up to the weight of a grown human in full beskar’gam. “I can only stay for a few days.”

“I’m here for a Standard week, not counting today,” Obi-Wan said, sitting at Jango’s side on the bed. “And I’m done for today, they mostly wanted to show me around and make introductions. I have meetings every morning starting at 0900 local time, then a fancy mid meal. Some afternoons there are ceremonial duties, then two late meal events, and two evening events. Even those are finished by the 20th hour,” Obi-Wan said. “Tomorrow I have morning session, mid meal and a couple hours of ceremonies in the afternoon, but I’ll be done well before late meal.”

“Excellent,” Jango said. “What’s good to eat around here?” Obi-Wan laughed at that. 

“Well, they’re all vegetarians, so I hope you didn’t want nerf-steak,” Obi-Wan teased. “They said this hotel is used to accommodating off-world guests, so I’m sure we’ll find something here, or we could go see what we find in the city. I’ve only really seen the governmental buildings so far.” 

“Let’s explore then,” Jango decided, and they rose almost in unison. 

“So how is everyone?” Obi-Wan asked via their in-helmet comms as they walked, and Jango updated him on the clan. It had been nearly a year since Obi-Wan joined the Haat Mando’ade and traded his robes for beskar’gam, and he treasured hearing what was going on in the clan. Ruusaan Rook’s daughter Delina had recently signed on for a trial run with the company, and was gaining experience in the simulators to pilot a Fang fighter. Ruusaan Aver and her girlfriend had exchanged knives and armour, and were talking about dates to have a celebration in honour of speaking their vows, although neither would say whether they had actually said the riduurok yet, or would at some indeterminate time before the party to mark their union. 

Myles was his usual grumpy self, and Jango didn’t expect a change in that any time soon. Obi-Wan couldn’t help a small laugh. He had never been around Myles when the man wasn’t surly, but there were few more loyal to Jango than his old friend. Silas was doing well, and had recently taken a small break to visit his siblings who ran a small brewery on Concord Dawn. 

Arla continued to improve, and the healthier and more confident she got, the more she terrorized the nursing staff at the outpatient facility where she went for therapy. They seemed to think that was a good thing. Obi-Wan laughed again at that. He knew from his own conversations with her that Arla was thrilled to have graduated from the long term ward to living at a halfway house in Keldabe and getting outpatient treatment. She had even spoken of moving back to Concord Dawn, taking up the farm that the Fett family still owned according to the census. 

They looked into various cafes and cantinas as they walked, and finally settled on one that boasted a Bimm of the Unfurred variety telling stories in the singing Bimmini language. Neither Obi-Wan nor Jango understood what was being said, but it was still beautiful to listen to. They removed their helmets and ate well, then sat a little longer just listening before they left. On their way back to the hotel, they went to the spaceport to fetch Jango’s things, just a small bag since he would have to leave again before Obi-Wan’s mission was over. 

“I brought some work if you need to meditate,” Jango offered when they had returned to Obi-Wan’s room. 

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan said, and pulled off his helmet, then deftly stripped out of his armour, checking each piece over by habit as he took it off, making sure it was in perfect condition. In his jumpsuit, Obi-Wan settled on the floor. He took a deep breath, and reached for the Force. Jango was nearby, warm and welcome, and Obi-Wan let the joy of his lover’s presence fill him for a few moments before sinking deeper into meditation. 

When he came out of his meditation an hour or so later, Jango had changed into his loose drawstring sleep pants, and was reading from his datapad. Obi-Wan just watched him for a moment, memorizing the little lines between his drawn-down eyebrows as he concentrated, the intensity of his dark eyes as they focused on his reading. The joy welled back up in him. Rising, Obi-Wan shucked off his jumpsuit. 

“Good meditation?” Jango asked, looking up and trailing his eyes over Obi-Wan as the Jedi bared himself. Obi-Wan shrugged.

“It was meditation,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I’m going to wash up - I caught a ride on a freighter that had - less than optimal facilities.” Jango laughed at that, but nodded. He watched Obi-Wan walk away, eyes sliding down the line of his back to rest on the curve of his ass. The muscles were already more defined - wearing beskar’gam every day tended to bulk a being up. Jango thought it looked damned good on Obi-Wan.

Jango looked up again when Obi-Wan wandered back into the bedroom, hair damp against his forehead. Setting aside his datapad, Jango smiled. 

“So do I get my reward now?” Jango asked. 

“Reward? There was no reward promised, bounty hunter,” Obi-Wan said, climbing onto the bed and straddling Jango’s lap. “What have you done that would earn you a reward?”

“I found you, didn’t I?” Jango asked, sliding his hands slowly up Obi-Wan’s thighs. 

“Hmmm, but I wasn’t hiding,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. 

“I very politely left my blasters and jetpack on the ship,” Jango offered. 

“Not altruistic when you know the societal expectation is that no one goes armed, and you could do plenty of damage with your gauntlets if you wanted,” Obi-Wan negated. Jango grinned. “Besides,” Obi-Wan said with a sly smile, “isn’t getting to see me reward enough?”

“You know? It just might be,” Jango said, a hint of a growl in his voice. He leaned up, kissing Obi-Wan deeply. 

“Mmm, that might earn you a reward,” Obi-Wan suggested, and with a huff of laughter, Jango pulled him down for another kiss. 

Obi-Wan leaned into it, opening to Jango and enjoying the slide of lips and tongues. Lust flared in Obi-Wan, tingling in his fingers and toes and warming up his spine. He savoured it as he savoured the simple joy of Jango’s presence earlier, letting it build higher and higher as they kissed and began to undulate together. 

He wanted more, Obi-Wan decided, as desire wound tighter and tighter inside him. Pulling away slightly, Obi-Wan shifted to kiss Jango’s neck, the hollow of his throat. Jango leaned back slightly, grinning as Obi-Wan kissed lower and lower.

Jango parted his legs as Obi-Wan shifted down the bed, then groaned as Obi-Wan licked up the underside of his cock. Reaching down, Jango brushed Obi-Wan’s hair back off his forehead. Pale eyes glittered up at him, and then Obi-Wan was slowly sucking down Jango’s cock. Jango let out an appreciative noise, then licked his lips. He shifted his hips, pushing Obi-Wan down a little further. 

Obi-Wan would have smirked if his mouth wasn’t full. Instead he swallowed and lowered his head until Jango’s curling black pubes were tickling his nose. Obi-Wan swallowed again, his fingers gently rolling Jango’s balls. Jango swore, fingers tightening a bit around his handful of Obi-Wan’s hair. Obi-Wan moaned purposefully, and Jango’s hips hitched under him.

“Obi-Wan,” Jango gasped, and Obi-Wan could feel the tension in his muscular thighs. 

Obi-Wan moaned again, pulling back slightly only to push his mouth down again, deepthroating Jango and swallowing around him. Jango groaned deeply, and a few moments later he was swearing vociferously as he came. Obi-Wan swallowed around Jango until Jango gently pushed him away. Obi-Wan brushed a soft kiss against the hollow of Jango’s hip, then flopped to the bed at Jango’s side. Jango huffed softly, pulling Obi-Wan in and kissing him deeply. 

“That reward deserves a reward,” Jango mumbled, and Obi-Wan laughed, kissing Jango again.

“What type of reward?” Obi-Wan teased, and Jango rolled them both, pinning Obi-Wan to the bed and kissing him deeply. 

“I was thinking repayment in kind,” Jango said with a leer, and ducked his head to nip at Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan grinned, reaching down to push at Jango’s shoulders. Jango went easily, and was soon lapping at Obi-Wan’s cock, fisting his hand around the base as he licked over the head. Obi-Wan swore, back arching.

“Please,” Obi-Wan begged, and Jango lowered his head, taking more of Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth. Obi-Wan didn’t last long, already primed from his own teasing. He came hard as Jango sucked at him, gasping Jango’s name. Jango swallowed Obi-Wan’s spend, then eased back, licking gently as he withdrew. “Missed you,” Obi-Wan mumbled as Jango laid back down beside him. 

Jango shifted them both, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan. He had missed Obi-Wan too, although he knew - as he knew Obi-Wan also knew - that their recent separation had been quite short. Only a month had passed since Jango was on Coruscant to celebrate Obi-Wan’s knighting. 

They spent as much time together as they could before Jango had to leave back to Mandalore. A few days after Jango left, his comm pinged, and he smiled when he saw Obi-Wan’s name. It was their usual scheduled comm-date, and they talked as they usually did about what each of them was doing, their friends and family. Dooku, Obi-Wan told Jango, had decided to go on a meditation retreat at one of the other Temples now that Obi-Wan had been Knighted. 

Obi-Wan was back in the Temple the following week when Jango commed, but the week after that they had to reschedule - Obi-Wan had been assigned to a mission negotiating water rights on the arid world of Sriluur between the native Weequays and Houk colonists. Another mission followed as soon as Obi-Wan returned to the Temple, and another after that. Whenever possible though, Obi-Wan ensured he commed Jango each week at the scheduled time. 

Sometimes they only had a few minutes to exchange words. Other times they could converse for hours. And once or twice, either Jango was on business near where Obi-Wan had a mission, or he could get away between contracts. When he had the opportunity, Jango let Obi-Wan know, and if Obi-Wan thought Jango’s presence wouldn’t negatively impact his mission, they met. Never for more than a few days, but both of them treasured every bit of time they could find together. 

Every time they could meet in person, Obi-Wan was more certain that Jango’s path and his own, while not always the same, were headed in the same direction. Everything felt clearer and brighter when they were together, and Obi-Wan was certain, after much meditation, that it was not only because he desired Jango. The Force might not have brought them together like something out of an ancient legend, but Obi-Wan could only perceive the rightness he felt in the Force when in Jango’s company as assurance that their partnership didn’t violate his duties as a Jedi.

Every time they spoke via comm, Obi-Wan was reassured that the distance would not cause their relationship to fizzle and die. Their wide-ranging conversations assured him that Jango felt the same. Even with a galaxy between them, they could be together. They would be together.

* * *

Given his penchant for debate - and his skill at mediation - it was perhaps no great surprise when, nearly half a year after his Knighting and those few missions to get his feet wet, Obi-Wan was requested to negotiate a treaty between the Naboo and the Trade Federation, who had embargoed that peaceful mid-rim planet. Having served at his Master’s side during the Stark Hyperspace Conflict and various other impasses with the Trade Federation, Obi-Wan went in expecting the corporation’s usual obstructiveness. He did not, however, expect to be gassed as he awaited his counterpart for negotiations. 

Slamming on his buy’ce and sealing it, Obi-Wan quickly let himself out into the ship, glad he’d had the diplomatic cruiser drop him off instead of waiting around. If the Trade Federation was willing to attempt to kill a Jedi, he didn’t doubt they’d try to eliminate all possible witnesses. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force - there were few other beings on the ship despite its size, and they were scared, panicking. Ensuring his helmet holorecorder was active, and that he was recording all of his external sensor information, Obi-Wan made his way through the Trade Federation ship, looking for his hosts.

Obi-Wan headed towards the greatest concentration of life in the Force - and the greatest concentration of fear. That, he anticipated, would get him to the bridge. At a T-junction, Obi-Wan paused, then swore as a pair of shielded droidekas rolled around the corner. They began to fire on him immediately.

Deflecting the droidekas’ blaster bolts, Obi-Wan tried to activate his comm. No signal. He ducked behind a bulkhead and modulated the frequency. Still no signal. He scrolled through the frequencies assigned to the Mid-Rim, then the neighboring Outer Rim. Nothing. Full communications blackout. Obi-Wan swore. 

“Well at least the negotiations were short,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself. The Trade Federation clearly didn’t want to talk - to him or anyone else. Which left the Naboo. Obi-Wan was sure he wouldn’t like what he found on-planet, but the Force urged him onwards. Glancing around, he saw a grating large enough he could likely fit inside the vent it covered. He reached out his hand, and the screws holding the grating in place fell loose. 

Crawling through the vents, Obi-Wan discarded ideas. He needed a way off the Trade Federation ship. Although beskar’gam could be modified to function in space and protect its wearer in that environment, Obi-Wan’s had not been tested outside of atmosphere. He could probably survive a few seconds in hard vacuum between the beskar’gam and the Force, but he didn’t want to run that risk unless he absolutely had to. 

Eventually, he found his way to a massive loading bay. Within loomed dropships, and queuing up at each were scores of B1 battle-droids. The sheer scale told him all he needed to know - this was an invasion army, not ‘just’ a blockade. He wished for a moment that his Master was there to advise him, then cast the thought aside. Dooku claimed he was too old for this sort of nonsense anymore, and was hopefully enjoying his sabbatical at the Temple of Eedit on Devaron. No matter Obi-Wan’s desires, he had to deal with the current situation as it presented itself. He was alone, and would have to rely on himself and what resources he could muster on the ground to see his way through.

By the time Obi-Wan made it to Theed, droids had taken the city, and the citizenry were being forced into camps. Obi-Wan knew he could not destroy them all, but he happily dispatched the droids attempting to escort the young Queen of Naboo and her court into captivity. The Queen and her courtiers were clearly more than a little surprised to see first, a Mando, and second, one with lightsabers. That was not a terribly unusual response Obi-Wan had found since he had adopted the armour.

“Queen Amidala,” Obi-Wan greeted with a slight bow. “I’m Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. Chancellor Valorum asked me to mediate between your people and the Trade Federation. As the Trade Federation opted to try and kill me instead, I would recommend we retreat to a place of safety to discuss your options.”

“You must go to Coruscant, and plead our case with the Senate,” one of the older advisors immediately suggested. Obi-Wan fought the urge to scoff. The Senate, who had done nothing as the Mando clans slaughtered one another? The Senate, who had barely bothered to enforce their own laws if they could just as easily be ignored for a bit of profit? The Jedi might serve the Republic, but Obi-Wan had inherited a healthy dose of skepticism on the workings of the Senate from his Master. 

“The Senate cannot help you,” Obi-Wan said. “The Trade Federation is burrowed so deeply in the bureaucracy you’d need to burn the whole system down to extract them at this point.” The Queen blinked, clearly not sure what to make of Obi-Wan’s lack of faith in the Senate.

“And what would you suggest?” one of the handmaidens surrounding the Queen demanded. 

“Hire an army,” Obi-Wan said wryly. The older advisors looked as if he’d pissed in their morning tea, the Queen and handmaidens as if he’s slapped them - but the dark skinned man in the uniform of the chief of security nodded. 

“And I suppose you know an army for hire?” an advisor asked, and Obi-Wan fought the urge to laugh. 

“How about getting to safety first,” Obi-Wan suggested, and managed to start them moving. “Comms are blocked out - no one off Naboo knows exactly what is happening here. We need to get you off planet no matter what. Whether that’s Coruscant or elsewhere is up to you.” The Queen and her attendants traded silent looks, and then the Queen nodded firmly. 

“Governor Bibble,” the Queen said, and one of the old men bowed his head. 

“I will stay behind,” Bibble said. 

“Yané, Rabé, you must get word out to the citizens that I will not surrender, that I will ensure our people are freed,” the Queen directed. Two of the handmaidens dipped low curtseys, then faded back, guiding the old Governor away. 

“I will not stay behind,” warned the chief of security. 

“I would not ask you to, Captain Panaka,” the Queen said with a small smile, then produced a small, sleek blaster from the voluminous folds of her gown. “Very well, Ser Jedi. We are in your hands.” Obi-Wan nodded, then turned to Panaka.

“The fastest and safest ship,” Obi-Wan suggested. Panaka nodded.

“This way,” Panaka said, and took point. They moved quick and quiet through the streets, sticking close to the walls. Soon the palace and ancillary buildings loomed before them. Obi-Wan peered into the hanger - a fair number of battle-droids were within, but so were some captive pilots. “Be ready to run. I will go first into the hanger and free the pilots. Follow me, get onto the ship as quick as you can. The fighter pilots, if they are willing, can protect us until we leave atmosphere, but I do not wish to waste their lives against the blockade. I intend a short jump first, just to get us away. We can re-route in a few hours,” Obi-Wan said, and the small group nodded grimly. 

Obi-Wan did as promised, his ‘sabers two whorls of light as he dismantled the Trade Federation droids guarding the pilots. 

“To your ships!” either the Queen or one of the handmaidens ordered, providing covering fire as Obi-Wan moved. The pilots rushed to obey, the crew of the Royal yacht following in Obi-Wan’s wake as he fought his way to the sleek silver vessel. 

“Secure, Ser Jedi,” Panaka called, shooting from the loading ramp. Obi-Wan backed up the ramp, deflecting blaster bolts as he went. The ship lifted as the ramp closed, and he could hear the muffled explosions of the fighter pilots clearing their way out of the hangar as the Royal yacht took off.

“Get everyone secured, this is going to take some fancy flying,” Obi-Wan directed Panaka, then strode toward the cockpit without waiting to see if the security chief would obey. “Pilot?” Obi-Wan asked, glancing through the viewport. They were already making for a weak area on the blockade, away from the massive droid control ship. The droid control ship was the largest vessel encircling Naboo, but it wasn’t alone. Getting through safely wouldn’t be easy. 

“Ric Ollie,” the pilot introduced himself. “We have full fuel tanks and this is the best ship in the fleet,” he said. “I’m not sure we can cut through that, though,” he admitted, indicating at the blockade. Obi-Wan nodded, acknowledging the uncertainty. He took a deep breath, reaching for the Force. The bad feeling of earlier had faded somewhat - not entirely, but he was all but certain they would make it through the blockade. 

“We can make it, but if you’d prefer, I’m a qualified pilot,” Obi-Wan offered. It wasn’t his favourite duty, but it was one he was more than competent to perform. Ric looked back at the blockade, looming closer and closer. 

“Take the yoke,” Ric said, shifting to give Obi-Wan the pilot’s seat. Obi-Wan nodded, looking over the helm once more. 

“Here we go,” Obi-Wan said grimly, then began pushing up their velocity. “Input hyperspace coordinates to jump as soon as we leave the gravity well, put us at the edge of the Kaliida nebula. The radiation will help mask us while the Queen decides what she wants to do.”

“Kaliida?” Ric asked, “alright.” Obi-Wan could hear the man’s uncertainty, but a few moments later the astromech beeped its acknowledgement of the new instructions. 

“Strap in,” Obi-Wan directed, “and warn the ship.” Ric again complied. Obi-Wan gave them one more moment to ensure everyone was secured, and then he pushed the ship even faster, beginning evasive maneuvers. In the co-pilot’s seat, Ric held on so tightly his knuckles went white. Immersed in the Force, Obi-Wan was able to finesse the movements of the ship as if it were a far smaller vessel, avoiding the worst of the Trade Federation’s fire. Their shields were still taking a beating though. 

“Auxiliary power to shields,” Obi-Wan said aloud, even as he flipped the switch. The shields glowed around them, deflecting the lasers. Obi-Wan grinned, ducking the yacht under a wave of vulture-droids. The droids impacted with one another, exploding into sparkling debris. “Almost,” Obi-Wan murmured, willing the engines to push them faster through space. He glanced at the gauges. 

Just a little further. 

Obi-Wan swerved, narrowly avoiding a barrage from the turbolasers. A heavy cruiser loomed ahead of them. Obi-Wan wove around and through the other ships, making for the larger ship. They passed inside its shields, and the other droids backed off, their programming keeping them from harming one another. They weren’t out of danger yet though.

“Ventral shields only,” Obi-Wan directed, and modulated the power accordingly. “All power to engines and hyperdrive.” It was a risk, but the distance between the edges of the Trade Federation cruiser’s shields and free space was marginal. It was a risk he felt confident taking. The Force wrapped around him, and he visualized their path. The Force was quiet, serene despite the chaos around him. They would make it through. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and poured on speed. They were unprotected from above for an instant, and then they were jumping to hyperspace, unharmed. “She’s all yours, Ric,” Obi-Wan said, after a deep breath. 

“That was some flying,” Ric said, voice thin with nerves. Obi-Wan grinned inside his helmet, and rose. 

“We’re a couple hours from the nebula; I’ll tell the Queen where we’re headed,” Obi-Wan said, and Ric nodded, settling back into his seat as Obi-Wan left the bridge. The corridors of the ship curved in clean lines, the lighting bright. It didn’t take him long to find the Queen and her court in a large audience chamber. Obi-Wan bowed as he entered the room. 

“Your Majesty, we’re safely in hyperspace. I’ve routed us to the Kaliida nebula, where the radiation will disguise us,” Obi-Wan reported. “I believe it is time for us to discuss your options.”

“The Royal Naboo Security Forces aren’t strong enough to resist the droid army,” Panaka volunteered. “We’ve lost a lot of good men and women already, and I don’t have a full accounting of the casualties from the first wave of fighting before we received the Queen’s orders to stand down.” Obi-Wan nodded. 

“If it is truly your wish, I will escort you to Coruscant where you may plead your case to the Senate,” Obi-Wan said, despite not thinking it a good idea. 

“You spoke against this option earlier,” a handmaiden said. Obi-Wan was almost certain it was the same opinionated girl who had spoken before, but they were all physically very similar, and he would need a little longer to be able to distinguish them from one another. 

“I did,” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “The Senate is concerned with the Republic as a whole. A single planet being strangled doesn’t much concern them unless it’s a Core planet - Coruscant or Corellia or Chandrila or Alderaan. The only way they will help Naboo is if you can make a case that the Trade Federation would move from this single-planet blockade to extortionate actions on the hyperspace routes.” 

“And so you think we should bring an army of mercenaries to our peaceful world,” the handmaiden said disdainfully. 

“My Lady, I think Naboo has no real defences against the Trade Federation’s droids, and none of your allies have yet come to your aid, despite that the entire Republic knows by now that the Trade Federation has your planet blockaded. They may not know what exactly is happening on Naboo due to the current communications blackout, but unless Naboo has very powerful friends in the Senate, they will not care. The Trade Federation makes many Senators very rich. They will not vote against its interests.” He sighed, reaching up and removing his buy’ce, ignoring the somewhat startled looks his youthful face garnered.

“Your Majesty, the Senate will not act,” Obi-Wan said plainly. “And you have no army of your own. It is my suggestion that you procure an army elsewhere. I concede that many of those who take work as mercenaries are little more than scoundrels. But I could name a half dozen clans willing to come to your aide for the right price.”

“Clans - you mean Mandalorians?” one of the handmaidens asked. 

“For what price?” another asked over her.

“Yes, I mean Mandalorians, and the price varies,” Obi-Wan said, answering both questions. 

“And you are Mandalorian yourself,” the Queen said, shooting her attendants a quelling look. 

“I am.”

“Of which clan?”

“Haat Mando’ade - the True Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan answered. The Queen’s eyes widened slightly. She had heard of them, Obi-Wan guessed. 

“And how much do their services cost?” the Queen asked. 

“I don’t honestly know,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Contracts are handled by Jango Fett and his seconds, and while I count them as my friends, I’ve never enquired about the business end of things. I am a Jedi first.” 

“What can you tell me about them then?” the Queen asked. “And how do they compare to the other clans of mercenaries?”

“At full strength, they field over 500 commandos under the leadership of Jango Fett. I don’t know exactly where his cruiser is right now, and it would probably take a few days to get the clan ready to fight. They have their own fighters and troop dropships, and most of the commandos are capable of fighting in the air with jetpacks. As to how they compare - the Haat Mando’ade have survived the clan wars. Death Watch did not. The leaders of the other militarized factions acknowledged Jango Fett as their superior rather than face him on the field of battle.

“As for the conduct of the Haat Mando’ade - I admit I am biased, but I believe they are honourable warriors, who fight in accordance with the rules laid out by the reformer Jaster Mereel, which I can provide for you. Those who hunt do so through the Bounty Hunters Guild. The mercenary company provides some of the inter-planetary policing in the Mando sector, and their contracts specify that the commandos will act in accordance to local laws.”

The Queen glanced to the outspoken handmaiden. The handmaiden inclined her head almost imperceptibly, and the muscles of her face shifted minutely, conveying meaning without speaking or truly changing her expression. It was an impressive trick.

“I must consult with my advisors,” the Queen declared. “When we reach the nebula, we will send for you.” Obi-Wan bowed again, then left the room. He wandered the corridors for a little while, but soon found a quiet alcove. Settling there out of the way, he reached for the Force. Obi-Wan meditated, trying to see other solutions. He couldn’t shake his original certainty that the Senate would do nothing. 

The Naboo were on their own, and Obi-Wan could not see any way to free them without a fight. They did not have the military strength to resist the invasion, or break the blockade on their own, and their security forces were weakened. They could not see to their own liberation. 

If the Naboo had any allies, those allies were silent. As the Queen had not directed him to seek out a world that might give them refuge, Obi-Wan had to conclude that she did not think their allies had the strength to shield them. Which left a mercenary army, unless the Queen wished a solution that would take far longer, like living in exile until the Senate finally acted. 

When Obi-Wan felt the vibrations of the engine change, he rose and went to the audience chamber. They had arrived at the Kaliida nebula, and hopefully at a decision on what to do next. The door opened automatically as Obi-Wan approached, and he paused at the threshold to bow politely. 

“I would know the terms of a contract with Jango Fett,” the Queen declared. There was something - different - about her, Obi-Wan felt. She looked unchanged from earlier, but there was something, perhaps in the way she held herself, or the carriage of her head. Curious, Obi-Wan thought, and filed the mystery for later.

“I can contact him,” Obi-Wan agreed. The Queen nodded, and one of the handmaidens went to a control panel. A holo-transmitter lowered from the ceiling, and the handmaiden looked expectantly at Obi-Wan. He stepped forward and input the frequency for the _Daybreaker_ , the Haat Mando’ade mercenary company’s cruiser. There was a slight delay, and then an armoured Mando appeared. 

“Su cuy’gar, Silas,” Obi-Wan greeted. “I’m contacting you on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Amidala of Naboo. She wishes to speak to the Haat Mando’ade about retaking her world from the Trade Federation, who have blockaded and invaded the planet.” There was a long moment as the transmission made its way across the parsecs, and then Silas reached up, pulling off his buy’ce. 

“Your Majesty,” Silas greeted politely. “My name is Silas Khel. I’m the second-in-command of the Haat Mando’ade mercenary company. I can speak with you about our standard terms, if you’re willing. If you prefer to speak with my boss, he’s due aboard shortly.” 

“Speak your terms,” the Queen commanded, and Silas did, easily listing the number of Supercommandos ready to fight, the time it would take them to reach Naboo, and their expectations with regards to remuneration. Obi-Wan could see one of the handmaidens hurriedly taking notes off to the side. “We thank you, and will speak with you again shortly.” Silas nodded, and so did the Queen. The transmission blinked off.

The Queen pursed her lips, her mouth narrowing to a thin line. She looked so very young, and Obi-Wan wished he had another option to present. The fate of her planet - her people - was on her shoulders. 

“As distasteful as we find it, hiring this army would be a most expedient solution,” the Queen said. “It would take us time to get to Coruscant, time to gain an audience with the Senate, time for them to decide to do anything if they do indeed decide to do something, then time to return. And all of that is time our people are starving and being abused in the camps. I can see no other option,” the Queen admitted. “The Mandalorians can be here in less than a week. It would take nearly that long just to reach Coruscant, and as you say, we have no assurances the Senate will act.” She raised her chin, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Very well. Naboo will know war.”

_Mandokarla_ , Obi-Wan thought. It was clear she disliked the very notion of going to war. It was also clear she would do what it took to protect her people. Those were good qualities in a leader. He liked her. The Queen nodded to the handmaiden who had been taking notes. The handmaiden nodded in turn, then rose to reconnect them to the _Daybreaker_.

This time, Jango answered. Obi-Wan nodded to him, but stood at the back of the group, letting the Queen and Jango hammer out the details of the contract between them. The _Daybreaker_ was already topping off her fuel reserves, and would turn towards Naboo as soon as the tanks were full. 

Once the contract was agreed upon, Jango sent it for the Queen’s signature. Amidala read it through carefully before authorizing the contract, then sent the agreed upon deposit. Jango nodded when the credits were in the company account. 

“I’ll need all your sensor data,” Jango said, and the Queen looked to one of the handmaidens. The handmaiden rose, sliding a datacard into the transmitter to share their information. 

“The observations of the astromech assisting Jedi Kenobi during our flight from Naboo are transmitting,” the Queen said.

“If I may, I can also provide data from when I arrived at the Trade Federation’s cruiser to open negotiations,” Obi-Wan said, and the Queen nodded. Obi-Wan stepped forward, and sent Jango his recordings. Jango nodded, acknowledging receipt of the data. 

“If we can take the droid control ship, we control the engagement,” Jango observed, scanning the data quickly. “A vessel of that size can generate some impressive shields though, and with their troops already on-planet, your entire population have become hostages for your good behavior. I would expect them to start letting some transmissions through the blackout to you, try to lure you back so they can coerce your agreement to the embargo.

“When those transmissions reach you, you cannot respond,” Jango commanded. “They’ll be able to track a reply, especially since you’re still so close to Naboo. That said, once you’ve received transmissions from the planet, it will be relatively safe for your ship to return to Naboo. We’ll time it so as you’re approaching from the Theed side of the planet, we’re coming in from the planet’s shadow - let them think you’ve been overcome by your empathy, and they’ll likely let you land unmolested. Their attention will be on you, and not on us.

“I anticipate some if not all of their leadership will have taken up residence in your palace. In some things, Neimoidians are very predictable. They like luxury, and they like it even more when they don’t have to pay for it themselves. A team of Haat Mando’ade will take the palace.”

“I want them alive,” Amidala said firmly. “They must face justice.” Jango dipped his head. 

“You’re the paying customer,” Jango said. “We can take them alive.”

“I want to be there when they surrender,” Amidala said, and Jango stared at her for a long moment. 

“I can protect her,” Obi-Wan said, stepping forward. 

“I’m still going to send a landing party with you,” Jango said, shaking his head. “We’ll send a ship to fly in with you to Theed. If we’re lucky, they won’t notice us on their sensors. If they do pick us up, I’m hoping they won’t fire for fear of hitting you. If they do engage, having us fly escort will ensure you get safely to the ground. While we’re headed straight for Theed, our cruiser and fighters approach from the moon’s shadow.” Obi-Wan dipped his head - he had a feeling Jango would be the one leading that landing party. “We’ll be at Kaliida nebula in four days at the longest. We’ll contact you at least once a day until we arrive. Once we’re at the nebula with you, we’ll send scouts ahead to ensure we’re using the most accurate information. Is there anything else we need to cover, your Majesty?”

“We are satisfied,” Amidala declared. 

“How are you for supplies?” Jango asked. The Queen’s mask-like expression wavered slightly. 

“We are well supplied for another week,” Amidala said, and Jango nodded. 

“You’ll hear from me tomorrow then,” Jango said, and Amidala nodded, then silently motioned to her attendant, who closed the transmission. The Queen wilted slightly, then looked over at Obi-Wan. 

“Your Majesty?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“I know it is the only way,” Amidala said. “But I mislike bringing war to Naboo.”

“The Trade Federation took that decision out of your hands, your Majesty,” Obi-Wan said. Amidala dipped her head then waved him off. Obi-Wan bowed, and left the audience chamber. As he walked back toward his small berth, he reached out in the Force. All was calm, although there was an undercurrent of anxiety that permeated the ship. That was to be expected, and Obi-Wan didn’t expect it to dissipate until he had safely returned the Queen to Naboo and her people were free. 

The next few days passed slowly. As promised, Jango was in touch once a day to update the Queen on his location. On the third day after the Naboo arrived in the nebula, the transmission Jango had anticipated from Naboo reached them. The message was garbled, and featured the elderly Governor Sio Bibble pleading for the Queen to return, relating that their people were starving in the Trade Federation camps, and would continue to do so until she came home to sign the Trade Federation’s treaty.

“Even knowing it is a trap,” the Queen said, then paused and shook her head. “I can hardly bear it.” Obi-Wan tensed his jaw. It was a very persuasive lure for someone as empathetic as Amidala seemed to be. She truly cared about her people, and it clearly pained her to be in hiding while the Naboo were suffering. When Jango contacted them a few hours later, Amidala relayed the message from Governor Bibble. Their plan to liberate Naboo could move forward. The Haat Mando’ade would arrive at the nebula the next day, and send out scouts to see what the situation was around Naboo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Su’cuy = hi. Colloquial from su cuy’gar = hello (lit. “you’re still alive”)  
> Su cuy’gar = hello. Lit. “You’re still alive.”  
> Mandokarla = having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue


	8. Chapter 8

The _Daybreaker_ with its hundreds of Mando warriors arrived right on schedule. The massive cruiser dwarfed the Naboo vessel, and with its bristling turbolaser emplacements, it was much different in style than the Queen’s sleek chromium-plated yacht. Almost as soon as the proximity alarms sounded in the Queen’s yacht, the comm began to ring. Amidala nodded to her handmaiden, and the holo resolved into an image of Jango.

“Your Majesty,” Jango greeted. “My scouts are in pre-flight. They should arrive in the Naboo system in a few hours. As soon as they do, I’ll contact you again so we can hear their news together.” Amidala nodded. They exchanged a few more words, and then signed off. Obi-Wan wanted badly to contact Jango on his personal comm, but refrained. Now wasn’t the time.

A few hours later, the two ships were in contact again, with the Haat Mando’ade scouts on comms to share their reconnaissance.

“I’m behind one of the moons, but visuals are good,” one of the scouts reported. “I’ve only got one vessel on my sensors, and can confirm by sight. The blockade is no longer in effect, there’s only the droid control ship in orbit.”

“No signals from the planet except some fuzz on the Trade Federation’s frequencies,” another scout reported. “Whatever encryption they’re using is keeping their signal real quiet.”

“Can you also confirm that the only vessel is the droid control ship?” Jango asked. 

“Confirmed,” the second scout said firmly. “Only the droid control ship, and it looks like it’s keeping geosynchronous orbit over Theed.”

“Fighter patrols?” Jango asked. 

“Not seeing any,” one of the scouts responded.

“Alright, I want you to stay out of sight, keep your sensors wide. Your relief will be there in a few hours. We’ll keep an eye on the planet until we get the Queen back on her throne,” Jango directed. 

“Copy,” the scouts confirmed, and then Jango toggled the scouts’ comms so they were no longer broadcasting to both the Mando and Naboo ships. 

“Why take down the blockade?” one of the handmaidens asked. Padmé, Obi-Wan thought. She was the most outspoken of the lot.

“Waste of ships, with her Majesty already off planet,” Jango guessed. “They’re probably all out looking for you.” It was speculation of course, but it was as logical a guess as any. He shrugged. “I don’t know, my Lady. But it makes our job slightly easier and less dangerous. A ship that size will still have plenty of room for fighter wings, and a point defense system, but we’ll have one big target to aim for, rather than trying to break the blockade.”

A Mando proverb learned from Silas rose in Obi-Wan’s memory - _haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc_ \- better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones that you can't. It wasn’t a perfect fit for the situation. They would have the one big enemy _and_ many small ones. But if they could take out the droid control ship, they would have solved a very large problem, and solving that large problem might just eliminate the bulk of the smaller ones.

Every few hours they listened as the scouts reported in at the changing of their overwatch shifts above Naboo. No droid fighters patrolling. No ships aside from the droid control ship. No broadcasts or other signals from the planet, save the heavily encrypted communications of the Trade Federation. 

Once Jango was satisfied that they had as much information as they could get without breaking the Trade Federation’s encryptions, he laid out the timeline for what was to come. The Naboo royal yacht and _Jaster’s Legacy_ would leave at the same time as the _Daybreaker_ , the first two flying openly to Theed. _Jaster’s Legacy_ would mask their transponder and run electronic countermeasures making the Mando ship all but invisible to sensors, although that would only fool the Trade Federation until they were in visual range. 

The _Daybreaker_ would drop out of hyperspace in the shadow of one of the moons, and launch fighters a few minutes after the Naboo and _Jaster’s Legacy_ arrived in the Naboo system. The cruiser and its fighter escort would take on the droid control ship while the Naboo and Mando landing party made for the palace in Theed, where they were more than likely to find the Trade Federation leadership. The plan was based on a lot of supposition, but without more information there wasn’t much more they could do. 

Orders given, they synchronized their chronometers. At the appropriate marks, the ships were underway. Obi-Wan meditated through part of the journey. A niggling feeling of unease built as they flew towards Naboo, but it wasn’t the plan itself that bothered him. Their course of action felt right. The Naboo were suffering, and liberating them was the best way to alleviate that suffering. Something else was going on, something that was connected to this, but not clearly. It was elusive, perhaps elsewhere. He was missing something, something important. Obi-Wan sighed when he came out of his meditation. 

Such vague warnings were helpful, in that they made Obi-Wan hyper-aware of both his surroundings and the Force. They were also distinctly annoying, since he couldn’t identify what they were about or what would be the best way forward. The source of his unease would become clear eventually, Obi-Wan knew. Probably at an inopportune time. Until it did, he would be mindful, and do his duty, protect the Queen, and hopefully resolve the situation on Naboo.

* * *

The ships arrived in the Naboo system as scheduled. Arriving first, the Naboo yacht sailed through space toward Theed, _Jaster’s Legacy_ on their wing. The sensor-masking held, and with the Trade Federation relying on their instrumentation which showed only the royal Naboo ship, not the Mando gunship at its side, no droid fighters appeared to challenge the Mando vessel. Just as the two ships neared the estimated visual range of the droid control ship, Obi-Wan watched on the viewscreen with the Queen and her handmaidens as the _Daybreaker_ appeared out from the shadow of the moon and the empty space around the droid control ship filled with vulture droids. As quickly as they flew out to fight, the droid ships exploded into fiery balls of shrapnel, courtesy of the Mando fighters that engaged them. The _Daybreaker_ began pounding at the droid control ship’s shields. 

With battle enjoined in space, the Naboo yacht and its Mando escort settled outside Theed. So far, it seemed the Mando landing party had been unnoticed. When the Queen and her handmaidens disembarked, they were in nearly matching combat suits, only the heavy hairpiece and more elaborate makeup of the Queen distinguishing her from her attendants. Obi-Wan put himself at her shoulder, opening his senses. 

Jango was leading the landing party of Haat Mando’ade, as Obi-Wan had expected. Jango felt as he always did before a fight, cool and collected, concentrating on the tasks at hand. There was still something else though, that elusive feeling of unease. Was what he was feeling in the Force, Obi-Wan wondered, the loss of Mando life in the skies overhead? He didn’t think so, and when he concentrated, the Force seemed to indicate his anxieties originated elsewhere. Slowly, Obi-Wan realized that he knew this bad feeling. It wasn’t just a feeling either. It was a presence. A user of the Dark side of the Force. He activated his comms. 

“Jango?” Obi-Wan murmured. 

“Me'vaar ti gar?” Jango asked, noticing the wariness in Obi-Wan’s tone. 

“Darjetii,” Obi-Wan said grimly. Jango swore. “I’ll continue protecting the Queen. It may just be a different enemy than we anticipated.”

“Copy,” Jango said grimly. “Oya,” he called on the group channel, and then he was airborne, jetpack roaring. A few other Mando’ade took off as well, some scouting further ahead, and the others, like Jango, flying cover. Obi-Wan stayed with the Queen as promised. 

They didn’t see any droids until they reached the outskirts of the city, and between the Haat Mando’ade and the handmaidens, the droids fell quickly. They made rapid progress until they reached the palace district. Tanks sat in the broad square before the palace, surrounded by regular B1 battle-droids and hardier droidekas.

Two Mando’ade went airborne, landing on the tanks. A pair of small bangs, and they threw open the blasted-open top hatches. A cacophony of droid complaints was followed shortly by the louder blasts of detonators being dropped into the heavy machinery, destroying everything inside as the Mando’ade activated their jetpacks and flew to safety. The B1s and droidekas on the ground immediately began to fire, the B1s spraying their blaster bolts skyward while the droidekas took slower and more deliberate aim. 

The Mando’ade on the ground had split their group while the droids were distracted, and soon had an effective crossfire going. Only the droidekas survived the first few moments of concentrated fire, their shields snapping up to protect them.

“Ears off,” Jango called, and pitched forward a few sonic detonators. The landing party covered their ears or muted their auditory sensors momentarily, and the droidekas collapsed as the shriek of the detonators vibrated their screws loose. The landing party darted across the cleared square, and pushed into the palace itself. Inside, the resistance was just as thick. Blaster char soon streaked darkly across the marble and plaster of the palace walls. 

The Force swelled in warning, and Obi-Wan turned. A being a little shorter than himself stepped into the broad corridor. Obi-Wan assessed them. Zabrak, he thought, although only the crown of horns really reminded him of the Zabraks he had previously met. This being boasted brilliantly red skin with deep black markings, their body swathed in figure-disguising black robing. They raised their hilt in challenge, and two red blades seared into sight. Saberstaff, Obi-Wan noted even as he activated his blue-bladed ‘saber. He left the Darksaber holstered for the moment, a potential surprise if things went against him.

“I’ll handle this,” Obi-Wan said, stepping forward to face the Darksider. Obi-Wan had never before felt a Force-user so strong in the Dark side, but this was not the first Darksider he had faced. 

“Oya,” Jango commanded, and Obi-Wan just grunted, tuning in all his senses to the other Force-user. Mentally Obi-Wan calmed and centered himself. He could hear the others continuing towards the few other life-signs in the palace showing on the Haat Mando’ade sensors, intent on capturing the Trade Federation leadership. Was this being their guard, Obi-Wan wondered, or an assassin sent for the Queen?

Obi-Wan did not have long to contemplate such things. When the Zabrak moved, it was with the aggressive, slashing style of Juyo. Obi-Wan had rarely faced users of the form, but he knew how to meet aggressiveness. Although he had placed himself in the ready position of Makashi - practically a taunt - he answered the first strike with the flowing defenses of Soresu. While he was not a Makashi duellist on par with his Master, when he used Soresu they were almost evenly matched. This fight, Obi-Wan knew, would be just as difficult, if in different ways.

Every slash, every swipe, every aggressive attack was turned back by Obi-Wan’s steady defense. They were both young and fit, but Obi-Wan had trained himself for stamina, to outlast his opponent. Every strike was met with a solid block or flashing parry, stopped or turned aside. Despite that, Obi-Wan could feel his opponent strengthening. It took him a moment to realize why. The Darksider - no, this strength was more than that of a Fallen Jedi like Xanatos or Komari, or of a follower of one of the Dark paths. This was a Sith, someone drawing upon corruption in the Force. And the Sith was fighting angry; being thwarted only fuelled that anger, which in turn strengthened the Dark side, empowering them. 

While seated firmly in the Light, Obi-Wan was unsure if the Dark side could eventually overpower him. He didn’t especially want to find out, either. He would have to make some offensive moves himself then, Obi-Wan decided. Carefully he began slipping elusive Makashi strikes into his motions, harrying little jabs and twists that flicked against his opponent’s blade. The Juyo the Sith used had no appreciable defenses, everything focused on the attack. Eventually, Obi-Wan was able to turn one of those attacks back on the Darksider. 

With a sliding parry, Obi-Wan was able to shift into a lightning-fast jab. The Sith gasped, then choked on the blood in his lungs as Obi-Wan withdrew his blade from the Zabrak’s chest. Fighting against almost anyone else, Obi-Wan would have gone for incapacitation rather than death, but a Sith, and one drawing so strongly on the Dark side? No, that was a risk Obi-Wan did not dare take. 

Obi-Wan centered himself, releasing his regret and quieting his adrenaline response. The Force resounded dully with the death pains of the Zabrak. One heart struggled to do the work of two, stuttered, and stilled. Obi-Wan bowed his head, his pulse loud in his ears. His opponent had fought well, had earned Obi-Wan’s respect. All the same, Obi-Wan could not regret the Sith’s death. He had killed, yes, but in defense of his charge, his people, and his own life.

The Dark side still clung to the Zabrak’s corpse when Obi-Wan approached it, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be doubly thankful for his Master’s training. Not all Jedi prided themselves as highly on ‘saber combat as Jan Dooku did, and Obi-Wan was certain that without his own desire to best his incredibly skilled Master, he never would have been able to defeat the Darksider. 

Looking up, Obi-Wan glanced around. While he’d been aware of his surroundings as they influenced the fight, he hadn’t exactly been mapping their progress. They had passed from the palace and through the hangars, and were deep within one of the plasma refineries. With a sigh, Obi-Wan glanced at his HUD. No one else was around. He reached out with the Force, easily finding Jango’s familiar presence. His lover was well - concentrating but not alarmed, and surrounded by others just as calm and concentrated. Satisfied that all was well with the royal party, Obi-Wan bundled the body up, then heaved it up onto his shoulder, attaching the long hilt of the saberstaff at his belt. Reaching out with the Force, Obi-Wan ensured there were no other immediate dangers, then headed back towards the palace. 

As he moved through the corridors, Obi-Wan had to fight his way through a few patrols of battle-droids. As he crossed the hangar though, the droid patrols staggered, then stilled. Obi-Wan smiled grimly. Before long, he found the Queen, her handmaidens, and the bulk of the Haat Mando’ade in the throne room, an array of blasters pointed at two trembling Neimoidians. He settled the Sith’s body near the door, then approached. 

“Ser Jedi, the Viceroy was just surrendering, as his droid control ship has been destroyed, and his army incapacitated,” the Queen said coolly. 

“Your Majesty,” the Neimoidian said, then blinked a few times, eyes straying to where Obi-Wan had laid down the dead Sith. The Viceroy sank into themself, bowing. 

“Captain Panaka,” the Queen directed, and Panaka stepped forward to take the Neimoidians into custody. Silence held until they had left the room. “We are glad to see you well, Ser Jedi,” the Queen said. “The - other?” she asked, not quite certain how to refer to the other saber-wielder. 

“They are dead, your Majesty,” Obi-Wan said. “I would ask the Haat Mando’ade for use of one of their stasis pods rated for the transportation of the deceased. The body should be brought to the Temple - they were a user of the Dark side of the Force, and well trained enough to represent a clear danger to the Jedi.” Jango nodded. Such equipment was all but standard for the Mando’ade who hunted bounties, as some of their quarry was far too dangerous to take in alive. The Queen nodded, then let out a slow breath, her shoulders dropping slightly as she began to relax a little. 

“Once we have freed our people from the camps, our contract will be fulfilled,” the Queen said, addressing Jango. Jango nodded. Pilots were dispatched to secure their ships and bring them to the palace hangars, and the _Daybreaker_ settled into orbit, with Mando starfighters patrolling to ensure the safety of Naboo. 

One of the Mando’ade soon brought the stasis pod Obi-Wan had requested. Obi-Wan set the corpse within, taking advantage of the lull in activity to get a better look at his opponent. He estimated the Sith was around his own age, their slack face unlined. Feeling Jango’s presence at his back, Obi-Wan looked back slightly.

“Jari’eyc skanah,” Jango noted, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help his snort of laughter. It was as much relief as amusement in truth. Obi-Wan shook his head and sealed the stasis pod, then turned fully and leaned into Jango, resting their foreheads together. “Morut’gar,” Jango promised, “gar ganayc.” Obi-Wan smiled, drawing back slightly then tapping their helmets together. Jango huffed softly. “Alright, I know, you can look after yourself,” Jango said with a slight grumble. It wasn’t the first time either of them had been in danger since they began their relationship, not even close. But usually if one of them was in danger, the other was either fighting at their side or didn’t know about it until the danger was long past.

* * *

The completion of the contract took another week, the Haat Mando’ade assisting the Royal Naboo Security Forces as they dismantled the remaining droids and released the citizens from the camps. When their work was complete, and the credits verified in the company account, the Queen invited the Mando’ade to remain a little longer so that after a period of mourning, the liberation of Naboo could be celebrated. Obi-Wan was invited to remain as well, and accepted without reservation. While the Naboo mourned and held funerals, Obi-Wan made himself useful with the relief efforts by day, spending time with Jango and the clan in the evenings.

Although Theed was a large city with a bustling spaceport, it was built in close communion to the natural splendour of the surrounding area. Obi-Wan and Jango would walk along the rivers behind the palace at night, reminiscing about similar walks taken in Keldabe when they were first getting to know one another, and bathing in the designated pools beneath the falls - after dark, there were few if any other swimmers, and they had the water to themselves.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jango observed one night as they lay together in the room the Queen had allotted them in the palace after their walk. 

“That Darksider,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up and scrubbing his hand through his hair. “That was far more than just someone who learned to use the Force. More than a Fallen Jedi. I - I cannot help but think of them as _Sith_ , despite that our histories say the Sith have been gone a thousand years.”

“You think if there’s one, there’s more,” Jango guessed. 

“I do,” Obi-Wan said grimly. “On the Trade Federation ship when I arrived, I had a bad feeling. I wonder now if it was the Darksider. I felt him again once we returned to Naboo, and while it eased immediately after I killed him...” he paused, shaking his head. “I’m uneasy still. Usually spending time with you brings me peace, joy. But I can’t relax fully, even with extra meditation, and I don’t think it’s just the echoes of violence that remain here.”

“If there’s more than one,” Jango said and shrugged. _If there’s more than one, their friends might come looking for vengeance_ , Obi-Wan filled in. He nodded. The thought was worrying. He’d defeated the Zabrak, but it had taken every bit of his skill. “Our patrols will keep an eye out, and the Naboo are all on high alert,” Jango reminded. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, then rolled his shoulders. “I just - have a bad feeling.” Jango nodded, knowing that Obi-Wan’s bad feelings were rarely without cause. 

Two days later a feeling of thick dread descended over Obi-Wan as he meditated before bed. The sheer pressure of the incoming threat had Obi-Wan immediately on his feet, blades in hand and activated even as he opened his eyes. He panted, eyes wide as he realized that the threat wasn’t even planetside yet. 

Jango alerted when Obi-Wan did, and was watching him carefully. Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath, deactivating his ‘sabers and then quickly pulling his armour back on. Jango rose from where he’d been reading and crossed to Obi-Wan, reaching out to touch his cheek. 

“Darjetii, much much Darker than the Zabrak,” Obi-Wan said. “I’d guess their Master, but I don’t have the knowledge to back up that guess.”

“So, more dangerous than our dead friend?” Jango asked. 

“Much,” Obi-Wan agreed. 

“Want a hand, or is this Jedi-only business?”

“You’re more than welcome to help, but we very well might be marching to our deaths.”

“Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur,” Jango replied with a slightly feral smile, and Obi-Wan kissed him long and hard before stepping back and jamming on his buy’ce.

“I’ll go rouse planetary defense. I’d like to meet this darjetii head on and away from as much collateral damage as possible,” Obi-Wan said.

“I’ll suit up and find you,” Jango murmured, nudging his forehead against the smooth shell of his lover’s armour. “Oya.” Obi-Wan nodded, and then he was turning on his heel and sprinting out the door. Blood pumping with anticipation, Jango hurriedly suited up in his beskar’gam and double-checked his armament, then strode after his Jetii, comming his clanmates as he went. By the time he reached Obi-Wan’s locator beacon, a dozen Haat Mando’ade had formed up behind him.

“Me’vaar ti gar?” Jango asked as he approached. Obi-Wan turned, nodding in greeting. 

“Naas,” Obi-Wan said, then tilted his head slightly. “Planetary defense is letting a small ship through, likely a personal yacht - it nearly evaded their sensors. If they weren’t still on high alert it probably would have. They agreed not to hail it, just gently nudge it toward us by shifting the patrols. Palace has been notified and will stay back and let us handle it.”

“Sounds good,” Jango agreed. 

“Let me make initial contact - I know I’ve been sparring with all of you, but Darksiders - they’re something else,” Obi-Wan warned. “Once we’re engaged, if you think you can distract him in a way that will help me, go for it. But I know you have all seen me incapacitate and even kill just by deflecting blaster bolts, so don’t underestimate them.”

The others all nodded. They had all faced Obi-Wan on the training grounds, and many had also seen him in battle. They knew that the best way to help their Jetii was mostly to stay out of his way. 

“Alright. Good hunting,” Obi-Wan said, and they scattered, tracking the incoming ship as it descended. 

The ship that finally touched down on the outskirts of Theed was small and agile, as reports had indicated. Despite suspecting this enemy already knew they were there, Obi-Wan and the Mando’ade remained hidden, watching with their sensornets spread wide. 

The ship settled to the ground with an eerie level of quietness. The baffles and dampers required to muffle the sound of such massive engines must have been state of the art, and neither Obi-Wan nor any of the Mando’ade had ever seen anything like it. Someone let out a quiet whistle of appreciation over their in-helmet comms, which someone else followed with a nervous chuckle. Obi-Wan worried for a moment that they’d get distracted in teasing and bickering, but the quiet pneumatic hiss of the airlocks disengaging stilled them to absolute silence.

The being that stealthily emerged from the shadowed interior of the ship was tall, far taller than any human Obi-Wan had ever known. Their head, what little of it he could see, was elongated as well - humanoid, but not a human, and a screaming maelstrom in the Force. Obi-Wan was certain the Zabrak had been a Sith. This being - he was even more certain they were Sith, their Darkness an almost overwhelming blot of wrongness in Obi-Wan’s Force-sense. Swallowing, Obi-Wan activated his various recording devices, then signalled silently to Jango. He would engage first, and the Mando’ade would do what they could. 

Stepping out into the clearing, Obi-Wan engaged his regular ‘saber, again keeping the Darksaber in reserve. A low, rusty laugh sounded, and a long thin hand appeared from beneath dark robing. The hilt of a lightsaber glinted in the moonlight. Silence trembled and then the blade hissed to life. Sith-red. Obi-Wan swore to himself, settling into position to wait. The Sith circled interminably, and Obi-Wan shifted, his focus narrowed to his opponent. He was sure the Sith had registered the presence of the Mando’ade, but he had to trust in their skill to protect them, and his own ability to hold the enemy’s attention. 

The stalemate dragged on, the Force itself seeming to hold its breath. A searing red bolt finally split the night, courtesy of one of the Mando’ade. The Sith batted the blasterbolt away as if it was nothing, raising their long hand imperiously. The Force roiled, and Obi-Wan heard the heavy _thunk_ of an armoured Supercommando hitting a tree trunk at high speed. 

“Bad idea,” Obi-Wan heard someone - likely the unlucky commando - whisper over their comms, voice trembling, followed by a wave of nervous snickering. He didn’t let their voices distract him though. He didn’t know the Sith’s true purpose here on Naboo, but reason and history both told him it would not be good. He was a Jedi, and it was his obligation to destroy any Sith he met. If he died in the effort, so be it. 

The Sith evidently tired of their standoff, and flicked their hand outward. Obi-Wan gasped as an invisible hand closed around his throat, lifting him off his feet. He was too far away to strike the Sith with his main weapon, a weapon with which the Sith clearly didn’t much concern themself. Panicking, Obi-Wan struggled ineffectively in that grasp, feet kicking against the air as his vision began to tunnel, his off hand scrabbling at his neck, trying to dislodge a hand that wasn’t actually there. He heard a distant roar, and wasn’t sure if it was actual sound or just his blood thundering in his ears.

Obi-Wan clattered to the ground, gasping for air. He struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep his weapon in hand, to rise. Light blossomed in his fuzzy vision, and it took him a moment to realize that Jango had gone airborne, and was firing at an almost impossible rate from above while the rest of the Haat Mando’ade peppered the Sith from cover. Obi-Wan dragged himself to his feet and engaged both his ‘sabers, chest heaving as he threw himself at the Sith, trusting his beskar’gam and his clan to let him get close enough to engage the Sith again.

Faced with this multitude of determined opponents, the Sith gave ground. There were simply too many angles to defend against, and the Haat Mando’ade were used to attacking as a unit. Obi-Wan didn’t know or care if the Sith had experience fighting with or against groups; he just wanted to defeat this abomination. The Sith fought only as much as they needed to retreat though, backing towards their vessel until they could throw themself into their ship’s ramp, then sending Obi-Wan crashing backwards with a wave of the Force. 

The engines flared, and a searing wash of heat sent Obi-Wan and the Haat Mando’ade to the ground despite the protection of their armour. The ship soared into the night, leaving a weary and confused band of fighters behind.

“Osi'kyr,” someone swore dismally, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help his slightly hysterical laugh, rolling to lay on his back and stare skyward, thankful for the moment just to be alive. The ship was gone, and the Sith with it; they must have jumped to hyperspace almost before clearing Naboo’s gravity well. Obi-Wan doubted the Sith was injured enough to die from their wounds. 

The urgency of his need to contact the Council had just increased at least tenfold.

The round-domed top of a buy’ce cut off Obi-Wan’s view of the stars, and he huffed, then sat up, pulling off his helmet to look up at Jango. Jango tilted his head slightly in silent question. Obi-Wan just shook his head. 

“Nothing, just thanking the Force you decided to come and bring the clan with you,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I doubt I could have defeated them alone. And yet - while they were much stronger than the first, there were so few similarities between them.”

“You think there’s a third darjetii out there,” Jango said, seeing where Obi-Wan was going. Obi-Wan nodded grimly. 

“The Council is going to be pissed,” Obi-Wan said with a wry smile. “One Sith could be waved off as someone who stumbled into a Temple they shouldn’t, or happened across an artifact our Shadows missed. Two? Possibly a third? That means there are likely more, that they’re organized. That means the last thousand years, they’ve been waiting, planning, and we didn’t even know we were being watched.” 

Jango nodded. Sith. He knew the stories well enough - the Sith were the monsters even Mando’ade used to scare their children into compliance. The Jedi Council likely wouldn’t be the only ones alarmed.

As Jango anticipated, Mando and Naboo alike were all on high alert the next few days before the celebration to mark the liberation of the planet. The sight of patrolling Mando’ade seemed to reassure the Naboo, as did Obi-Wan’s continued presence. 

The night before the celebration, Obi-Wan and Jango went one last time up to the pools for a moonlight swim. There were a few others out and about, the city growing crowded as people arrived from the surrounding areas for the upcoming festivities. Despite there being more bathers, they found a fairly secluded pool to enjoy. 

“It’s beautiful here,” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but comment, laying on a smooth boulder near the falls, staring up at two of the luminous moons of Naboo. 

“It is,” Jango agreed, his eyes on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan glanced over, and blushed.

“I don’t want it to end,” Obi-Wan said softly. “I know it will end, all things do, but-”

“Even stars burn out,” Jango agreed philosophically, wading out of the pool and laying down next to Obi-Wan. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, and pulled him close. “I don’t want it to end either, cyar’ika. I can no longer imagine my life without you in it. Even if I can’t always keep you at my side.”

“We’ve weathered our separations well,” Obi-Wan said, and Jango nodded. 

“We have. The credits we spend on comm service probably helps.”

“And the fact that we’re able to meet up fairly often, even if it’s just for a few hours at a time.” 

“We knew it would be hard, getting involved with our duties being what they are.”

“We did,” Obi-Wan agreed, tucking his head against Jango’s shoulder. “And all that - the credits, the time apart - it’s still worth it to be with you in these moments of peace.”

“For me too,” Jango said. “It won’t get any easier from here. But like I said - I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” 

“Me either.”

Obi-Wan settled slightly at that, something in him easing. It certainly wasn’t the easiest relationship, but it was worth it. When he was with Jango like this, at peace, the Force sang in harmony. It wasn’t assurance that everything would work out, but Obi-Wan felt no indication that it was the wrong path, either. All the more reason to relish making love in the plush suite they’d been afforded as Her Majesty’s guests. 

As they laid in bed together later that night, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but remember the marriage vows Arla had taught him. _Mhi solus tome_ , we are one together. _Mhi solus dar’tome_ , we are one when apart. _Mhi me’dinui an_ , we share all. _Mhi ba’juri verde_ , we shall raise warriors. They had discussed the last vow early on, in light of their obligations to their people. Obi-Wan would surely take a Padawan in time, maybe more than one depending on the path of his career as a Jedi. The other tenets - they were together in spirit, even when half the galaxy was between them. And when they were together in the same place, the Force sang. 

Obi-Wan knew that the Haat Mando’ade wouldn’t argue against the two of them swearing vows to one another - most of them would be pleased to know that the two of them had taken that step. Arla had been teasing about it almost since the beginning, and Myles and Silas were just as bad. Jango - Jango hadn’t brought it up explicitly, but their conversations had circled around the idea quite a few times. Obi-Wan knew that as usual, Jango was letting him set the pace. 

The Jedi - were a little more complicated. Master Ki-Adi-Mundi was married, and sat on the High Council. Some Knights and Masters, while not officially married, lived together and only took paired missions, sharing their lives more closely than some married beings did. But as a culture, for the most part marriage just wasn’t something the Jedi _did_ , at least not in recent history. 

It was not marriage itself, Obi-Wan reasoned, that would be seen as questionable by the Jedi, but what it represented - the perception that he valued Jango and Jango’s wellbeing above that of any other sentient. Obi-Wan knew that if he formalized his relationship with Jango, he could do nothing about that perception, except be as unbiased as possible. Some Jedi would question his decisions, and it was likely he’d never be assigned missions in Mando space again. Yoda would scold, and so would many of the other Councillors. They would watch him closely, but they already did that.

Setting aside what the Order would think, Obi-Wan meditated on the relationship itself. It was over a year since they’d met on Galidraan. They had proved that they could maintain the relationship despite going for months without seeing one another. Their time actually together was always over too quickly, but Obi-Wan had never neglected his duty as a Jedi to try and steal more time with Jango. And he knew Jango had maintained his commitments as Mand’alor with equal diligence.

In some ways, saying the traditional vows wouldn’t change anything. They would still have to part when their duty called. They would likely continue to spend more time apart than together. But Obi-Wan also knew that Jango would be pleased to have their relationship given the weight of the oaths. He breathed, sinking into the Force. As always, it buoyed him up, Jango’s presence warm at his side. 

Obi-Wan rolled onto his side, looking at Jango. He smiled, just letting himself feel for a few moments. Reaching out, he brushed a stray curl from Jango’s forehead, smiling when Jango frowned slightly, eyebrows drawing down. 

“I’m ready,” Obi-Wan declared, his fingers tracing a faded scar on Jango’s cheek, then the curl of his sur’atiin where it traced his father’s lineage. 

“Mmm?” Jango asked sleepily. 

“Gotal’ur riduurok,” Obi-Wan said quietly, remembering the traditional words and vows Arla had taught him, and Jango’s eyes snapped open.

“Me’ven?” Jango asked, a thread of eager delight in his voice, and Obi-Wan smiled at his lover’s sleepy confusion. 

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum,” Obi-Wan murmured, speaking the Mando’a words of love for the first time as he leaned in to brush their mouths together. “Jorhaa’ir te riduurok ti ni,” he declared more firmly. He wanted to formalize their relationship. 

“Elek,” Jango breathed, shifting up onto his knees and offering his hands. Obi-Wan knelt up as well, placing his hands in Jango’s. They swallowed in unison as their eyes met, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Jango and Obi-Wan recited together, their voices husky with emotion as they spoke the marriage vows.

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum,” Jango breathed, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. 

“Ni kyr’tayl,” Obi-Wan murmured with a smile, and kissed his husband.

They fell together into the bed, kisses growing more intense. Jango took Obi-Wan slowly, face to face and staring into one another’s eyes until they were gasping with pleasure. They traded words of love, and came, clinging together. Obi-Wan fell asleep in Jango’s arms, and woke to Jango’s kisses. He smiled as he opened his eyes, then smiled wider at the open joy on Jango’s face. 

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum,” Obi-Wan greeted warmly. Jango grinned. 

“Ni kyr’tayl,” Jango said, and Obi-Wan felt like his face might split in half he was smiling so broadly. 

They kissed again, and likely wouldn’t have moved from the bed all day if they hadn’t heard the palace coming to life around them. Today the Naboo would celebrate their liberation. There would be a parade and speeches, and a feast when night fell. Once those formalities were over, Obi-Wan knew that he and Jango would likely have a celebration of their own with the Haat Mando’ade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to work on multiple fics concurrently. This means sometimes my fics share ideas, although they usually work with variations on those ideas. Like in my fic and you would be safe this fic has Maul attacking at a place other than the reactor room, and being defeated in single combat. I also decided to utilize the fact that Sidious doesn’t kill his master, Darth Plagueis until the night before he’s elected Chancellor. With Padmé remaining on Naboo, there’s no vote of no confidence, and Valorum is still Chancellor at this point, so Plagueis is here to cause trouble.
> 
> **Mando’a:**  
>  Buy’ce = helmet  
> Elek / Lek = yes / yeah  
> Darjetii = Darksider, Sith  
> Gar ganayc = I have you (authors best effort at conjugating, may not be correct)  
> Gotal’ur riduurok = create marriage vows (this is dear author smooshing words together, and is probably not correct)   
> Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc = better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones that you can't (Mando proverb)  
> Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur = Today is a good day for someone else to die - Mando saying  
> Jari’eyc skanah = ugly, much hated person or thing  
> Jate bora = good job  
> Jorhaa’ir te riduurok ti ni = speak the marriage vows with me   
> K’oyacyi = 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*   
> Me'vaar ti gar? = How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal.. The response for *I'm fine thanks,* is *Naas.* (Literally - nothing. ).  
> Me’ven = huh? What? expression of disbelief.  
> Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde = Mando marriage vows. "we are one together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."  
> Morut’gar = you’re safe / secure   
> Ner kar’ta = my heart  
> Ni kyr’tayl = I know (love and know use the same verb? I couldn’t resist the call back but the double meaning makes it even better.)  
> Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum = I love you  
> Ni oya’kara = I’m hunting (author’s best attempt, conjugation may be off)  
> Osi'kyr = Strong exclamation of surprise or dismay (osik = shit)  
> Oya = Good hunting  
> Ret’urcye mhi = we’ll meet again (goodbye)  
> Riduurok = love bond, specifically between spouses - marriage agreement  
> Su cuy’gar ner jet’ika = You’re still alive (hello) my little Jedi  
> Sur’atiin = author’s best attempt at ‘forever drawing’ aka tattoo but specifically one with Mando cultural meaning  
> Utrel’a = clear / all clear  
> Verde = soldiers


	9. Chapter 9

The High Council’s displeasure at Obi-Wan, regarding both his marriage and his contracting mercenary forces to complete his mission on Naboo, meant that he was placed on his first probation as a Knight when he finally returned to Coruscant. He could understand how his actions were seen as a conflict of interest - his placement as a Jedi mediator had resulted in a lucrative contract for his clan. He had a bit harder of a time filing that as _wrong_ , especially as Queen Amidala and the Naboo had no complaints. Someone always profited. On Naboo, the best interests of the Naboo people - the expulsion of the Trade Federation - happened to result in a profitable campaign for the Haat Mando’ade. 

His friends razzed him affectionately, on earning himself a probation, and his Master commed with congratulations on pissing off the Council badly enough that they’d commed Dooku to complain. Evidently they all viewed it as a rite of passage rather than a serious punishment. He was grounded to the Temple for a few Standard months, and placed on a teaching rotation. Suddenly Obi-Wan felt he had a deeper understanding as to why some of his instructors had been so grumpy, if teaching was commonly used as a probationary period punishment. 

Despite that he was being punished, and rather against his own expectations, Obi-Wan ended up enjoying his time as an instructor. The children were engaging, and rather more endearing than he remembered from the rare times Master Dooku had been prevailed upon to teach and promptly roped Obi-Wan into assisting him. They were full of questions about the beskar’gam he wore everyday, even in the Temple, which lead to questions about the Mando culture and Mando space. Seeing an opportunity to help ease some of the historic antipathy between Jedi and Mando’ade, Obi-Wan was happy to educate them, so long as it didn’t eat into their official class time. 

It was nice to catch up with his friends as well. All of his crechemates had been Knighted, and Quinlan, who was the first to have his braid severed, actually had a Padawan of his own. Aayla was a fierce Twi’lek teenager who tagged along at Quin’s shoulder. She was eager to learn - and to tease her Master at any given opportunity. Evidently she’d picked up a lot of _interesting_ Huttese phrases relating to sex on their most recent mission to Tatooine, and was pestering Quin to explain what they meant. Aayla also spent a lot of time in the creche, mentoring one of the Initiates. 

While on Tatooine, Aayla and Quinlan had somewhat inadvertently emancipated a young Force-sensitive boy and his mother from slavery. Fearing he might be forced back into bondage, Quin and Aayla had acceded to the mother’s demands that the boy - Anakin Skywalker - be brought to the Temple. While incredibly strong in the Force, Skywalker was much older than most younglings dedicated to the Jedi. It made things awkward for him in the creche, where he was the same age as the Initiates preparing to become Padawans, but years behind them in formal education. 

Aayla, who had also come a bit older to the creche, spent much of her spare time tutoring Skywalker in reading Aurebesh and learning basic Force exercises. She seemed to enjoy teaching the younger boy, and he learned well from her, without the attendant anxieties of failing someone he had to address as _Master_. Quinlan teased her that she’d have to earn a Knighthood in record time if she wanted to be Skywalker’s official mentor. 

Obi-Wan finally got to meet Skywalker himself after about a month in Temple. While behind in some skills and knowledge-sets, Anakin was astoundingly advanced in other areas. Obi-Wan was teaching a Flight Mechanics course more advanced than the basic piloting that most Initiates undertook, and when Anakin tested out of those basic courses, he joined Obi-Wan’s class. Most of Obi-Wan’s other students were Padawans already, all of them adolescent. Anakin, not yet ten years old by his own best guess, and scrawny from years of malnourishment, stood out like a sore thumb. 

Obi-Wan was all too familiar with the bullying that could develop in such a situation, and carefully watched over the interactions in the classroom. To Obi-Wan’s surprise, the Padawans exceeded his rather low expectations. Instead of taking out their frustrations at being bested by an Initiate on Anakin, the Padawans adopted him as a mascot and pestered him for piloting tips. In exchange for his racing knowledge, the Padawans tutored him in his other classes. 

It seemed at least a couple of the older students had had strong behind-the-scenes encouragement from Aayla, who remained fond of the boy. Despite the formation of those new acquaintanceships, Aayla retained her place as Anakin’s closest friend and primary tutor while she was in the Temple. Which meant that when Obi-Wan spent time with Quin, Aayla and Anakin were often near at hand, bickering and teasing one another in a pidgin of Huttese, Ryl, Bocce, and Basic. It was surprisingly comfortable, and underlined to Obi-Wan just how lonely some of his longer solo missions were. 

With Dooku, they had operated alone for the most part, and Obi-Wan hadn’t questioned that his first few missions were run solo. But he’d also had Jango at his shoulder as often as they could manage it, and even when they couldn’t coordinate their missions, they were constantly comming one another. Somewhere along the line, Obi-Wan had forgotten a little how nice it was to be surrounded and supported by other Jedi. The Order could use a few dozen hard looks at itself, Obi-Wan knew that well. But it was still home.

“Probation, really, Obi-Wan?” Jan greeted when he returned to Coruscant a few months after Obi-Wan. He’d left Devaron to go on a distant mission himself, seeking out a pair of his missing agemates, Sifo-Dyas and Ky Narec.

“You congratulated me earlier,” Obi-Wan teased, then pushed his way into his Master’s apartment and embraced him, resting his head on Jan’s broad shoulder. “Missed you Master. This being a Knight nonsense is a lot harder than you ever made it look.” Jan chuckled softly, gently carding his fingers through Obi-Wan’s shaggy hair. 

“I’ve missed you too, my dear boy,” Jan admitted. For all he had scolded Qui-Gon about affection being his first Padawan’s downfall, it was one of his own weaknesses as well. Affection was half the reason he was so intent on finding Sifo and Ky. Sifo’s trail had gone cold, and Jan had set that search aside, although he hoped he’d find another lead in the future. Ky - Ky had decided to take his foul-mouthed new Padawan, freed from slavery on Rattatak, to the Altisian sect where she wouldn’t stick out quite as badly. Young Asajj Ventress was older even than Anakin Skywalker, and had lived in even harsher environs. 

“What brings you back to Coruscant?” Obi-Wan asked when he’d made them tea and settled at his Master’s side on the sofa. Jan let out another rusty chuckle. 

“Your research, actually,” Jan admitted. In addition to his duties as instructor, Obi-Wan had stood before the High Council at least a dozen times in the past months, answering question after question about the pair of Sith he’d duelled on Naboo. At first, no one had been willing to believe that either the Zabrak assassin or the mysterious second Darksider was truly a Sith; a reappearance of their ancient enemy after a thousand years was an ill omen after all. 

The Shadows had claimed the Zabrak’s corpse and all the items found on it, and sent agents to Naboo to see what else could be discovered. Despite not being a Shadow himself, Obi-Wan had insisted upon being included at least peripherally in the investigation. There wasn’t much that was concrete, but they had circumstantial evidence tying the Zabrak to a number of murders in the criminal underworld. 

The bleeding red crystals in the double-bladed ‘saber left little doubt as to the Zabrak’s nature. When Jedi Fell, their original ‘sabers worked for them to an extent, and they were usually captured or killed before they undertook the heresy of forcing an unwilling crystal to obey them. A Fallen Jedi likely wouldn’t even have the knowledge to attempt such sacrilege.

“The Sith?” Obi-Wan asked, and Dooku nodded. While his missions didn’t always reflect it, Jan had long ago become an expert on the varying Force-using sects in the galaxy, their traditions and methods. He was perhaps one of the most learned scholars the Jedi had on the topic of the practices of the Sith, among other groups. Obi-Wan still remembered quite fondly the few months they’d spent on Jedha in the Temple of Kyber while his Master studied with the Guardians there. It was the closest he’d had to a vacation until this probation period.

“And how’s Jango?” Jan asked, and Obi-Wan’s face lit. While circumstances kept them apart, they spoke regularly. 

“He’s good, you know him, he never slows down,” Obi-Wan said fondly. “We’re designing sur’atiin.” He touched his temple where the incisions would be made, and the ink applied. Most of the design was traditional, to fit within the markings Jango already wore. Obi-Wan would only have his temple marked in honour of their marriage, not having the knowledge of his lineage that was reflected in the rest of the sur’atiin. While as a Knight Obi-Wan was now permitted to seek out his birth world and family, he had no inclination for such a journey. Jan, Jango, the Jedi and Haat Mando’ade - that was all the family Obi-Wan needed.

“I was rather surprised you didn’t have the sur’atiin done as soon as you spoke your vows,” Jan admitted, fingers tapping against Obi-Wan’s upper arm where he had the Haat Mando’ade sigil tattooed when he first got involved with Jango.

“We wanted to be certain it was the right step for both of us,” Obi-Wan said. “The sur’atiin is special.” Jan nodded, understanding that well enough. The marks were sacred to the Mando’ade, and nothing to be lightly undertaken.

“I also hear you’ve been hanging about with Initiate Skywalker?” Jan asked, and Obi-Wan flushed.

“He’s a sweet boy,” Obi-Wan said somewhat defensively. 

“That was neither an accusation nor an insinuation, my dear,” Jan soothed gently, becoming aware he’d poked at a spot that was more tender than he’d anticipated. “Has someone been bothering you about it?”

“There are those who think he was too old to be brought to the Temple at all, even though he’s currently tracked for the Service Corps, not training as a Padawan,” Obi-Wan said. “He really is a good boy, he just - feels so much, and I think the creche masters don’t quite know what to do with him at times. The Padawans get along with him wonderfully.”

“Don’t over-identify with him, Obi-Wan, his struggles are his own,” Jan cautioned. 

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said with a slight flush, dipping his head at the gentle reprimand. “It’s true I see a lot of myself in him, though our origins are rather disparate.”

“Be a guide to him then, help him avoid your mistakes,” Jan suggested gently. Obi-Wan nodded, relaxing. Jan smiled, and began to tell Obi-Wan of his mission to Rattatak, finding his old friend Ky Narec and Narec’s own unexpected Padawan, until Obi-Wan dozed off there on the sofa, his head resting against Jan’s shoulder. 

For the remainder of Obi-Wan’s probation, Dooku was in the Temple, assisting with the investigation into the Sith - the Council finally bowing to Obi-Wan’s insistence that both beings he’d fought on Naboo _had_ been Sith. Which meant that either they were from the line of Bane, a Master or Apprentice still out there, or they were from some sect of Sith that the Jedi had never before encountered. Neither prospect was terribly reassuring for the Jedi - they’d either been tricked for a millenia, or distressingly unobservant. It especially rankled the Masters. Some of the more hidebound Councillors would have liked to deny indefinitely that the Sith had survived into the present day and were emerging once more from the shadows.

When his probation was over, after about half a year in the Temple, Obi-Wan was sent out to scour the Outer Rim in search of more clues on the mysterious Sith. He spoke at length with Quinlan in anticipation of the mission, as his old friend was a Shadow, one of the Jedi who specialized in hunting for traces of the Sith.

Obi-Wan also shared what information he could with Jango and the Haat Mando’ade before he got on his outbound transport, not sure when he would next be able to get in touch. While the Haat Mando’ade had obligations of their own both as individual bounty hunters and as a mercenary fighting force, they also covered a lot more ground than a single Jedi could. Jango set a time to update the clan, and Obi-Wan, like the others who weren’t on the _Daybreaker_ , was there on comms. When Obi-Wan had given the clan the partial briefing on the Sith that he was allowed to share via holo, Jango stood, looking over his clan members appraisingly. 

Obi-Wan had already briefed Jango in private, telling him more of the Jedi Order’s history with the Sith, and Jango knew his Mando history fairly well too. The Sith were the scourge that had decimated his people long before the Republic came for their pound of flesh. If he had his way, and if his clan agreed, he’d unleash every Mando’ade willing on the demagolkase. But hunting the Sith was not something he would demand. The danger was far too great to make this hunt anything but optional.

“Vode,” Jango said, and the whispers that had sprung up quieted. “What Obi-Wan has told us will impact the entire galaxy,” he said with quiet surety, and some of the others nodded. “History tells us quite clearly what destruction and cruelty the Sith would wreak if left to their own devices, or worse, if they were supported by those who thought only of potential gain. I do not ask any of you to fight or hunt this enemy. The Sith is quarry we have not measured ourselves against, and we don’t know what they might be capable of either in straight battle or through more nefarious means. 

“Know this though. My husband is as Jedi as he is Mando’ad. And his enemies are my enemies. I tell you I go as a man in hunt for the Sith. I do not ask you to join me. But if you hunt at my side, you will have earned a debt beyond what I can repay in this life,” Jango finished. Obi-Wan didn’t argue Jango’s declaration, but Jango imagined his clever husband had guessed he might do something like this. While Jango’s estimation of the Jedi had improved markedly since Jan and Obi-Wan came to Galidraan, he still had a Mando’s reservations about the Order as a whole.

“Gar ni shekemir,” Myles called, affirming his loyalty. 

“Ni shekemir,” Silas echoed a moment, his voice overlapping Myles’. The rest of the clan pitched in in rapid order, declaring themselves against the Sith. Jango’s heart swelled with affection and trepidation. Ramikadyc, the lot of them.

“Oya!” Jango called, recognizing their pledges, and they began to cheer and ululate, warming their blood for the endeavour. 

“I should have known,” Obi-Wan murmured in Jango’s ear via the comm, wishing he could be there in person to scold and support his husband. “Happy hunting, beloved. And if you’re in the Arkanis sector, please check in on a woman named Shmi Skywalker in Mos Espa, and tell her that her son is growing well at the Temple.” Jango huffed softly, switching Obi-Wan to his private channel as he put on his buy’ce.

“You taking the kid on?” Jango asked. They’d discussed the prospect at length when Obi-Wan first started sharing stories about Anakin with Jango a few months before. 

“Not right now,” Obi-Wan said. “He needs more of the basics in the creche, and my missions are too dangerous for a student that young. In a couple years perhaps, when he can better defend himself, and hopefully we’ll have made some progress on the Sith by then, although I’m not holding my breath. He won’t age out until he’s thirteen, and someone more experienced may select him before then, which I couldn’t begrudge.”

“Take care of yourself,” Jango directed. “If you need back up-”

“I know you’re only a comm away, riduur,” Obi-Wan said affectionately. “And if I need extraction I _will_ call.”

“Alright,” Jango said with a smile, knowing he was being a bit overbearing. His Jedi was a Knight, more than capable of looking after himself. That didn’t stop Jango from worrying. He knew Obi-Wan worried about him too though, and while that didn’t make things better or easier, it did make it feel a bit more equitable. “Miss you.”

“Miss you too,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I’m hoping I’ll be able to see you soon.” 

“You know how to find me,” Jango said with a smirk.

“By following the trail of death and destruction?” Obi-Wan quipped, and Jango huffed out a soft laugh. They talked a little longer before Obi-Wan had to sign off and go about his business.

The next months would provide them little opportunity to converse, although they called one another any chance they were given, and even managed to meet up on Concord Dawn while Jango was in the sector making some repairs and upgrades to his ship’s systems, and visiting Arla at their family farm. Obi-Wan couldn’t stay too long - he was already overdue back on Coruscant at that point - but when he arrived back at the Temple, his temple was swollen and lined with glossy black ink that identified him to Mando’ade everywhere as Jango’s spouse.

As a reward for his efforts hunting the Sith, Obi-Wan was granted a bit of time in-Temple without obligations. He found his Master deep in the archives with Master Nu, their silvered heads pressed together over accounts of the Sith Wars that had decimated the Order and all but destroyed the Sith. Dooku looked up, still attuned to Obi-Wan’s presence, and Obi-Wan gestured silently, letting his old Master know he would find him later to properly say hello. Dooku signed his agreement, then turned back to Madame Nu. Leaving them to their research, Obi-Wan found his way back to his austere billet in the Knights’ dorms, and happily stood under the sonics until he was fairly certain he’d cleansed off the entire outer layer of his skin. 

Obi-Wan ate with Jan that evening, catching one another up. Much of Obi-Wan’s reconnaissance would likely end up in Dooku’s hands, his tenuous leads on the Sith being carefully researched. Some of Obi-Wan’s information would be discarded, but some would hopefully elucidate them on where these Sith had come from, and why they had stepped back out from the shadows.

For the few weeks he was in the Temple, Obi-Wan happily caught up with his friends and spent time in the creche. Anakin was ecstatic to see him, and more so when Obi-Wan relayed word from Jango that Shmi was doing well, and had started her own repair business in the free settlement of Anchorhead using funds from a free-beings microlending collective. Obi-Wan enjoyed spending time with the boy, and happily tutored him a bit in lightsaber forms and hand-to-hand combat.

The Council didn’t let Obi-Wan rest too long though; his information-gathering had been among the most productive of the Jedi they had sent out scouring for evidence of the Sith, and they wanted him on the hunt once again. Obi-Wan couldn’t fault their reasoning. He was soon on his way, first to a relatively peaceful diplomatic mission, to keep his negotiating skills in practice, and then back to Sith-hunting. 

A few months after Obi-Wan started going back out on missions, Jango rescheduled their regular contact. It wasn’t the first time one of them had needed a few days grace to wrap up a mission or contract, so Obi-Wan agreed and bent his attention back to his own duties. Despite that they’d gone longer without contact, when their schedules didn’t cooperate, worry seeded itself in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind - Jango’s work was dangerous. But Obi-Wan also knew how capable Jango was. 

Usually even if there wasn’t time to talk, Jango would still send him a message or two. When that week passed without a single message, the worry began to grow. Obi-Wan forced himself to keep his mind on his duties despite the anxiety gnawing at his gut. Jango would be fine. He was just busy. 

The following week, when Obi-Wan contacted Jango, the connection went to the answering service. Nothing was wrong, Obi-Wan told himself fiercely. Jango was just busy or had broken his comm or something. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them damaged their equipment. All the same, Obi-Wan input the codes for the _Daybreaker_. 

“Myles?” Obi-Wan asked, when instead of the general frequency he was rerouted to Myles’ personal comm. 

“I’ve been meaning to comm you,” Myles said grimly. “Jango took an individual contract a couple weeks ago - not long after you two last spoke by the comm logs.”

“I take it he hasn’t reported in?” 

“No,” Myles grit out, sounding personally offended by that fact. “I sent a scout to the last location his ship paid docking fees when he missed his usual weekly check in. We found _Jaster’s Legacy_ abandoned on Kohlma, one of the many moons of Bogden. We also found the body and ship of that hut’uun, Montross. I - haven’t been the best at keeping in touch while trying to track Jango down.” 

Obi-Wan grimaced at that, knowing how single-tracked Myles could get when he was working on something. Montross was no friend to Jango. He had been one of the Haat Mando’ade under the leadership of Jaster Mereel, but after Mereel’s death, Montross had tried more than once to kill Jango and take over leadership of the Haat Mando’ade. While few if any would be sad to hear of Montross’ death, it was worrying to find evidence of Jango having been on Kohlma, but no Jango himself. 

“Arla?” Obi-Wan asked. Her last text message had been a bit stiff, but Obi-Wan hadn’t connected it to Jango’s lack of contact. Mentally, he counted back - Jango had been perhaps a day or two missing when he’d last contacted Arla. She’d likely been worried, but probably hadn’t known the worst of it yet. Obi-Wan would have to give her a comm when he finished with Myles. 

“She hasn’t heard from him either,” Myles confirmed. “I’ve updated her - she - isn’t taking it well.” Obi-Wan grit his teeth, and reminded himself that Jango was more than capable of looking after himself. Still, the worry didn’t ease. 

“The rest of the clan?”

“Worried. Jango left Silas and I in charge as he usually does when he takes a solo contract. So far, there hasn’t been any trouble with the clan. We’ll have a full briefing soon, and likely Silas or I will take temporary command. For now, Silas is concentrating on the day-to-day business while I focus on finding Jango. And we will find him, that I promise.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. He wasn’t going to panic, he reminded himself. Sometimes a mission required that one of them remain out of touch for a month or more. Still. He couldn’t help but remember some of the close calls over the past few years.

Force, the first time they’d met Jango had been patching himself up after a run-in with Death Watch.

This wasn’t the clan wars, Obi-Wan told himself. Jango had an excellent reputation in the bounty hunting community for a reason. He was smart and skilled, and he was going to be fine. Obi-Wan reiterated that last point to himself more firmly - Jango was going to be fine. Still. The timing looked more than a little suspicious. Less than a year after declaring a hunt on the Sith, Jango went missing without word to his spouse, sworn clanmates, or blood sibling? None of them could believe Jango would disappear so thoroughly, not without cause. They would continue the hunt, searching for the Sith and Jango both until they had either Jango back alive, or solid proof of death. 

“Keep me apprised?”

“I will,” Myles promised. 

When he closed the connection, Obi-Wan crumpled in on himself, taking deep breaths. Steady. He had to be steady now. If he lost himself in the threatening worry and fear, he’d be no help in finding Jango. In. Out. Slowly he tamped down the panic, and reached out in the Force, wondering why he hadn’t noticed something was wrong. The Force had grown shadowed and sluggish in the past years, and while subsuming himself in that energy was still a comfort, the feeling of unease had grown so prevalent it was hard to distinguish specifics. 

Once he calmed himself enough to think straight, Obi-Wan sent a text message to Myles, full of all the questions he should have asked over the comm. The response came so quickly, Obi-Wan guessed Myles had likely already begun writing the message after they ended their conversation with so much still unsaid. Myles wrote that Lorn was going through the logs on _Jaster’s Legacy_ and Myles himself was tracking down the origination of the contract Jango had been on. From the logs, they thought Jango had arrived at Kohlma on schedule shortly before his and Obi-Wan’s rescheduled contact, and gone missing shortly thereafter. Silas was going to temporarily take over the business of the clan, while Myles focused, with a team of others, on finding Jango. 

When he had a better idea of what was being done, Obi-Wan sent Arla a quick text.

_I just talked with Myles - how are you holding up?_ Obi-Wan sent.

_Bad_ Arla texted back almost immediately. The standard animation that showed when someone was typing popped up, and stayed up for a few seconds that seemed to stretch an eternity. _I know DW is gone, I know it’s not them_ she texted. 

_But that doesn’t help?_ Obi-Wan sent.

_Doesn’t help at all_ Arla sent back, along with the symbol of a frowning face. _Myles is keeping me up to date. Told my counselor yesterday. We’re working on keeping me calmish._

_We’ll find him_ , Obi-Wan promised. 

_Or tear the galaxy apart looking_ Arla sent back. 

_AND_ Obi-Wan replied, _AND tear the galaxy apart looking_. He received a little mythosaur skull - the symbol of the Mand’alor - in return. _Always willing to talk_ Obi-Wan sent, and this time, Arla texted him back a simple smile.

* * *

Obi-Wan walked around in a daze for a week before earning a reprimand from the Battlemaster when he nearly wandered into the middle of a training session. He forced himself to be more present in the here-and-now after that. He wouldn’t be able to help Jango - or anyone else - if he was stuck in his own head. 

Still, Obi-Wan beat himself up for months, even as he forced himself to focus on his missions. He knew that few if any Jedi would care one way or the other about Jango’s disappearance, save that it might affect Obi-Wan’s performance as a member and representative of the Order. 

Which meant that if Obi-Wan was going to get any leeway to look for Jango - and he refused to accept the suggestion that he give up, write his husband off as dead - he had to continue to perform admirably as a Jedi. The rest of the Haat Mando’ade were just as stubborn - or perhaps just as in denial. While they accepted that in theory they might find proof of death rather than Jango alive and pissed off, all were intent on finding their Mand’alor. After all, if Jango was dead, someone would likely be bragging very loudly about it, given Jango’s reputation and position.

_Jaster’s Legacy_ provided few clues, other than a few messages. In the months after Jango’s disappearance, Myles tracked down everyone who had contacted Jango. Most were professional acquaintances, and word spread through the bounty hunting community quickly that Jango was missing and the Haat Mando’ade were on the warpath, their Jedi occasionally with them. Those few leads soon petered out though - Jango had disappeared, and no one was sure how, or where he had gone.

For the next few years, Obi-Wan remained on farflung missions hunting Jango and the Sith alongside his Mando brethren whenever possible. When he was hunting, either criminals or traces of Jango, the fear and grief receded, if only a little. Missions kept Obi-Wan from falling apart - if he was out in the galaxy, there was a chance he would see something, hear some rumour of Jango. Only Dooku could reliably pull him home to Coruscant, although some of Obi-Wan’s agemates were at least sympathetic about his loss. Quin more than once dragged Obi-Wan out of the Sunrise tapcafe in Little Keldabe, where the sympathetic bartenders were apt the let Obi-Wan drink himself stupid. 

It was Dooku, though, who called Obi-Wan to the Temple as Anakin approached his thirteenth birthday. While the boy had originally been steered towards the Service Corps, he’d more than made up the deficits in his education due to being born enslaved and coming to the Temple so late, and should a Knight or Master offer for him, the Council was likely to allow Anakin to train as a Knight. 

Jan knew that Obi-Wan was fond of the boy, and hoped that by suggesting a partnership between them, Anakin would help Obi-Wan feel less isolated from the Order. Obi-Wan resisted, if only because Jan’s reasoning sounded uncomfortably like the logic Master Yoda had applied to push Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jinn together. He hesitated too, when the grief was stronger. Raising warriors was something he and Jango were supposed to do together. But Obi-Wan did enjoy spending time with Anakin, and could easily see the generous and gifted Knight Anakin might become with training. In the end, it was the happier memories of Jango that decided Obi-Wan, their late night talks curled together discussing the warriors they would raise, Jango’s amusement when Obi-Wan related his time spent with Anakin.

Even in the creche, Anakin had heard about Obi-Wan’s marriage and missing husband. Most of the Jedi seemed to think that Obi-Wan’s long absences from the Temple were worrying - that there was something un-Jedi-like about Obi-Wan wanting to find his husband. Anakin didn’t quite understand that - he had worried so much about his mom back on Tatooine, and knowing she was safe and free had made him so much happier. Knowing his husband was safe would make Obi-Wan happier, and that seemed like a good thing to Anakin. 

It took Anakin a little longer to realize that the marriage itself was part of what many Jedi thought strange about Obi-Wan’s search. While Anakin knew most Jedi didn’t marry, he hadn’t thought much about the reasons why. Obi-Wan’s marriage had only ever seemed to make him happy. He never asked special favours, at least not that Anakin had heard of, and he still went on his missions and helped people at the Council’s direction. Even with his husband missing, Obi-Wan was still doing his job. But Obi-Wan, Anakin also understood, was a bit of a special case. 

As the slayer of the first Sith in a millenia, Obi-Wan was something of a celebrity in the Temple, especially among the Initiates and younger Padawans. They were also more than a little impressed by the fact that Obi-Wan as the only Jedi who wore full-body armour everyday, complete with domed and t-slit helmet - evidently the beskar’gam made him look cool. As a Knight without a Padawan, Obi-Wan was also closely watched by the under-thirteen crowd, and the fact that Anakin knew him was valuable credit for Anakin. More importantly to Anakin though, Obi-Wan was his friend, and someone else who had struggled on their path to becoming a Jedi Knight. He was kind, and willing to help Anakin with his bladework, and reassured him that the Force, while not exactly a sentient entity, worked toward the Light.

Sometimes, as his 13th birthday approached, it was hard for Anakin to accept that. For all that he’d never anticipated becoming a Padawan, Anakin was disappointed that he would soon leave the Temple for the Service Corps. Like all Initiates who didn’t become Padawans, Anakin would go to the AgriCorps at first, to receive some additional training. He was hoping he ended up in the ExplorCorps in the end - charting the Unknown Regions and Wild Space sounded terribly fun if he couldn’t become a Knight and help people that way. He would miss his friends, Anakin thought, stomping down the curl of longing that grew in his chest every time he thought too hard about his future. But there was something slightly different about the way he felt when he thought about not being at Obi-Wan’s side, not learning from him any more.

Wanting to see as much as possible of Obi-Wan before he left the Temple, Anakin ensured that every time Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant, they spent time together. Sometimes that time was spent just sitting and eating together, Anakin talking about his classes. Other times Obi-Wan would take Anakin out into the city, usually to the nearest Mando enclave, where Obi-Wan would talk to his contacts about possible sightings of the Mand’alor and Anakin would listen carefully to brush up on his Mando’a. Anakin liked best, though, when he could get Obi-Wan to tutor him, either teaching him Force techniques or practicing lightsaber forms.

“You’re progressing well,” Obi-Wan complimented one day as Anakin’s birthday approached. Anakin smiled brightly with joy at the praise. While he enjoyed his classes with the Battlemaster, one-on-one training with Obi-Wan was so much better. 

“I’ve been practicing hard,” Anakin admitted. “There’s - the Masters say I could be a Padawan if someone chose me. But I think - I don’t think anyone will,” he confessed. “Everyone knows I came late to the Order, and that I’m not as trained as the other Initiates my age.” Obi-Wan could hear the thread of disappointment in Anakin’s tones, and knew it well. While Obi-Wan had become something like a confidant for the younger Jedi, and advised him about possible paths, the two Jedi themselves had never actually brought up the prospect of Obi-Wan taking Anakin as his Padawan. Obi-Wan wasn’t certain why, in hindsight. Anakin had always been an excellent pupil for him, although there was more to the mentor and apprentice relationship than that.

“About that,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin looked up, hope blooming in his bright blue eyes. Like all Initiates, he’d hoped to be chosen as a Padawan. And Obi-Wan - he was the ideal teacher for half of Anakin’s crechemates. “I’d be honoured to guide you on the path to Knighthood, Initiate Skywalker.” 

“You - really?! _You_?!?” Anakin asked excitedly, visibly trembling in anticipation. 

“Really, really,” Obi-Wan said, and promptly had an armful of sobbing boy. “I have you now, ad’ika,” he murmured into Anakin’s curling ash-blond hair, rubbing soothing circles into the narrow back packed with sturdy muscle. “Udesii, ori’vod is here now,” he promised.

“Ori’vod,” Anakin mumbled, and Obi-Wan nodded, finger-combing Anakin’s curls and gently separating out the section where a Padawan braid would be plaited. “I promise to uphold the Jedi Code,” Anakin mumbled tearily, the first line of the Padawan Vows. 

“Shhh, that will wait until we go before the Council,” Obi-Wan soothed. “I know you’ll do well, An’ika.” 

Anakin nodded his agreement, and clung to Obi-Wan a while longer. Without letting go, Obi-Wan tapped a request to be seen by the Council into the comm on his gauntlet. Rather to his surprise, he received an almost immediate reply that he could be seen that same day, just before the Council ended their business for the evening. 

“That was quick,” Obi-Wan said aloud, and shifted Anakin in his arms to show him the appointment. “Looks like we’ll be official tonight.” Anakin beamed wetly up at Obi-Wan at that, sheer joy pulsing off him so strongly Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh with reflected delight. “Would you like to meditate with me before that?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin made a face, but nodded. Obi-Wan chuckled softly. “Let’s clean up first then, Padawan,” he encouraged, and Anakin’s brilliant grin returned as he raced for the showers, practically skipping with joy.

The two of them meditated in the Star Map room, one of Obi-Wan’s favourite places in the Temple for contemplation when it wasn’t in use for other purposes. They fell into sync quickly and easily, and Obi-Wan felt replete in the Force in a way he hadn’t in years. Anakin’s light was impossibly bright, joyously bursting forth from within him like a newborn star. 

This was the right path, Obi-Wan felt, more sure of that than he had been of anything in what felt like years. Anakin was his to train, and while they didn’t fall spontaneously into a bond, Obi-Wan had to exert some effort to prevent that. While not bound by tradition, he did want to honour some of the old customs, like not bonding to his Padawan or braiding his hair until the pairing had been approved by the Council.

“Expect you, your Master said we should,” Yoda greeted Obi-Wan when he arrived in the Council chamber, Anakin’s hand clasped warmly in his. 

“I should have known,” Obi-Wan grumbled fondly, then dipped his head in solemn greeting to the Councillors. “Honoured Masters, I petition for your approval to take Initiate Skywalker as my Padawan Learner,” he said more formally. “The Force encourages our bonding, and Initiate Skywalker has given his approval of my request to guide him on the path to Knighthood.”

“This is the path you wish to follow, Initiate Skywalker?” Mace Windu asked in his stern but kind way. Over the years, Anakin had lost much of his initial fear of the Councillors, and begun to understand that it wasn’t him they feared, but the uncertainty in his future - an uncertainty that roiled in the Force and cast shadows over what was to come. 

“It is, Masters,” Anakin said. “Knight Kenobi has been an excellent mentor even without the advantage of a bond. The Force is guiding me to his side.” Obi-Wan smiled, knowing his new Padawan had likely been practicing that little speech since accepting Obi-Wan’s offer. 

“Pleased we are to welcome you, Padawan Skywalker,” Yoda said, ears flickering with affection. It was no secret that the ancient Master was fond of Obi-Wan, and a new Padawan would keep the young Knight in the Temple more often, rather than chasing dangerous rumours of Jango Fett through the Outer Rim. “Your vows, you will take.” Anakin nodded and knelt facing Yoda, the ritual words springing to mind. 

“I promise to uphold the Jedi Code,” Anakin began. “I promise to respect all life and to help those weaker than myself, to use the Force only for good, never draw my lightsaber in anger, only to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to find new ways to improve myself so that I may be an example to others, and to defend the Galactic Republic,” he swore. 

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod, Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said softly, the Mando words of brotherly adoption, before he began weaving Anakin’s Padawan braid. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think of Galidraan as he spoke the words, the night Jango had included him in the clan, and the sweet kisses they had shared by the fire’s light. His heart ached, wondering when his husband and new charge would get to meet. “The mentor, the Padawan, and the Force entwined,” he intoned, deftly braiding Anakin’s short hair and tying it off. It was a little stub of a thing for now, but when Obi-Wan plaited it properly, he would braid in some of his own hair to lengthen it. 

“May the Force be with you,” the Councillors said almost in unison. 

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan returned, Anakin echoing him a beat later. Laying his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, Obi-Wan guided him from the Council chambers. They went next to the offices of the Council of Reassignment, to fill in the appropriate forms, including housing reassignments and supply requests. Obi-Wan also filled in the form to have a droid move his few belongings from his Knight’s billet to their new quarters once they were assigned. 

It was nearly late-meal by the time they finished, so they ate in the refectory, then went to collect Anakin’s few things from the creche. While they packed up his belongings, the message came through on Obi-Wan’s comm letting him know where their new quarters were, and that his own possessions would be delivered shortly. Once packed, Anakin said his goodbyes to his crechemates, and received their enthusiastic congratulations, before the Knight and his new Padawan went to find their new shared quarters. 

The apartment had likely been unlived in for some time, the sense of the last occupants faded to nothing. The cleaning droids at least had been through, scouring away the dust that would have collected while the rooms stood empty. Basic furniture sat in the common areas and bedrooms, and Anakin was soon unpacking his things from the creche, a few model ships he’d assembled, pictures he’d drawn and datapads he’d accumulated. 

Obi-Wan settled his own belongings, the rack for his armour and the tools he used to maintain it and his weapons, his own datapads and spare comm, the detritus of his field kit. A droid arrived from the quartermaster before long with linens and necessities like dishes and cutlery. Obi-Wan contemplated growing a few plants from cuttings in the gardens, but decided they’d find out what their schedule was first - in the past few years anything but a cactus would have died from neglect under his dubious care. 

It took a few weeks for Obi-Wan and Anakin to settle into their new routine and get used to living together. While Obi-Wan was an early riser by habit, and didn’t mind getting up as the sky was still brightening, Anakin had to be dragged from bed with promises of food. Once fed, Anakin became a bit more alert, and Obi-Wan ensured they built the habit of meditating then, before Anakin was fully awake and asking questions. 

Where Obi-Wan had quiet confidence, Anakin was all brash curiosity, sometimes badgering for answers Obi-Wan didn’t have. Although sometimes awkward, the incessant questions spurred needed conversations that helped them learn more about one another, and strengthened their bond. Anakin loved hearing stories about Obi-Wan’s missions, and Obi-Wan found that telling those stories became another way of teaching, sharing his mistakes and pointing them out, guiding Anakin to come up with other solutions that might have worked better. 

As much in self defence as anything, Obi-Wan taught Anakin advanced research skills early on, so he could send him to the Archives with his never-ending questions. Madame Nu was alternately pleased and dismayed. Some days Obi-Wan had a half-dozen messages from her, varying from compliments on his curious student to demands he remove Anakin from the Archives immediately. The latter was usually when Anakin’s questions veered into uncomfortable territory about the structure of the Republic and the Jedi’s place within that structure, where those with friends in the Senate were prioritized for Jedi assistance when things went wrong.

On days when Anakin had classes, Obi-Wan had duties of his own - he was finishing his teaching rotation, and also doing research on the Sith. Obi-Wan was certain their reappearance and Jango’s disappearance were somehow linked. The one lesson of Anakin’s that Obi-Wan took over from the start was lightsaber combat. While he wouldn’t claim to be as skilled as the Battlemaster, Obi-Wan knew Anakin learned well with individual attention. Training Anakin also gave them more time to practice together, and would allow Anakin to learn how to work with Obi-Wan’s style of fighting.

At the end of the first week, Obi-Wan commed the _Daybreaker_ to introduce Anakin to the clan. Silas picked up, and gave Obi-Wan his usual thin smile, before the expression got a little happier to see the youngling standing at Obi-Wan’s side and nearly vibrating with excitement. 

“Su’cuy,” Obi-Wan greeted, seeing Silas’ slightly knowing expression. “Ibic ner ad’ika, Anakin Skywalker.”

“Olarom,” Silas said in welcome, “ni kyr’tayl gai, Anakin Skywalker.” Obi-Wan smiled at the acknowledgement - it was a simple phrase, but it echoed the formal Mando adoption rites, and Obi-Wan was certain Silas did that on purpose.

“Anakin, this is Silas Khel, one of my vode - my brothers,” Obi-Wan introduced in turn.

“Su cuy’gar,” Anakin said carefully, and Silas grinned. 

“Good choice, Obi-Wan,” Silas said. “Give me a minute, I’ll get Myles and some of the others to say hello.” Obi-Wan nodded. Arla joined the comm first, and Obi-Wan could see the weariness in the shadows beneath her dark eyes. 

“Arla,” Obi-Wan greeted, “this is Anakin Skywalker, my new Padawan.” She smiled, her chin wobbling slightly.

“He -” Arla started, then paused, turning away and swallowing thickly. _He would be so happy_ , Obi-Wan knew she wanted to say, and so he nodded again, hands tightening briefly on Anakin’s shoulders. 

“I know he’d be pleased,” Obi-Wan said gently. “And I’ll do my best to ensure that Anakin knows our ways.” Arla nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears. Her hands flashed.

_Miss you_ , Arla signed, not wanting to speak for fear she wouldn’t get the words out over her tears. _See soon_. A moment later, her signal blinked out. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked quietly. 

“Arla is Jango’s sister, but she can’t really leave Concord Dawn,” Obi-Wan said. “We all miss Jango - so much. And he and I had talked about training students, the whole clan knows - knows Jango should be here to help introduce you to them, and help teach you the Resol’nare.”

“Why can’t Arla leave Concord Dawn?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan sighed. 

“I’ll explain later,” Obi-Wan said, as Silas walked back into range of the holotransmitter with Myles and Ruusaan Rook at his shoulders. “Su’cuy,” Obi-Wan greeted, and went through introductions again. A few more Mando’ade came through to greet Anakin before they had to close the call. All were welcoming, but the undercurrent of sadness was ever-present. They all knew, as Arla did, that this was a task Obi-Wan had meant to undertake with Jango.

“I think I’ve told you about how Jango came to join the Haat Mando’ade, right?” Obi-Wan asked that night as he checked over his armour and Anakin read over an assignment. Anakin nodded, setting aside his datapad. “And that he thought Arla was killed with their parents?” Anakin nodded again. 

“But she was taken captive instead,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan dipped his head. 

“While she was captive, the people who had her hurt her badly,” Obi-Wan explained, knowing he was glossing over what had been done, but also knowing the details weren’t his to share. “Sometimes, when we get hurt, our minds start seeing danger where other people don’t. Because of how badly she was hurt, Arla only feels safe in a few places.” 

Anakin nodded slowly. It was sort of like how he’d only ever felt safe when he was with his mom, before he’d got used to the Temple, and learned the Jedi were safe. Sometimes he still got nervous when his clan from the creche went on field trips in the city, before he remembered he was allowed to look people in the eyes, allowed to be loud and have fun like any other youngling. 

After that conversation, Obi-Wan sat Anakin down and began teaching him the Resol’nare - the six core tenets Mando’ade upheld at the heart of their culture. _Ba’jure_ or education, the promise to teach younglings the Mando way. _Beskar’gam_ or armour, the wearing of the ‘iron skin’ that not only protected the Mando’ade, but streamlined the appearance of the many species who made up the culture. _Ara’nov_ or self-defense, the ability to protect. _Aliit_ or the clan, the chosen family they called their own, those they were willing to kill and die for. _Mando’a_ the language, spoken throughout the Mando diaspora. _Mand’alor_ their leader, who they would rally to when called. _An vecnuyan mhi_ , the teaching chant closed - all help us survive. Between that and his Jedi training, Anakin had plenty to keep him busy until he qualified for field missions. 

In all, Obi-Wan and Anakin remained in the Temple for a few months after Obi-Wan took Anakin as his Padawan. Partly it was to complete Anakin’s current coursework. Mostly though, it was to build Anakin a fully powered lightsaber, and then give him the time to become accustomed to the more deadly weapon and learn some more advanced combat tactics. 

Anakin was already proficient in Shii-Cho, so Obi-Wan began teaching him the introductory exercises to the other forms, watching carefully to see which one fit Anakin best. Anakin would eventually learn all the forms save Vaapad, as all Padawans did, before specializing in the one he chose as he grew into his full height and strength as an adolescent. Nearly a year after becoming Obi-Wan’s Padawan, Anakin could perform the exercises with a certain amount of proficiency, and had tested out of his current course load, so they were placed on the mission rotation. 

It didn’t take long for them to be sent out. 

Over the past few years, the new Chancellor had leaned heavily on the Jedi, and missions had come in fast and frequent as a result. Bail Antilles had been elected a few years after the Naboo crisis, when Chancellor Valorum had limped out of office under a cloud of suspicion. Chancellor Antilles’ promises to combat crime and corruption had been well received. Following through had the Jedi investigating even the barest hint of conflict, and sometimes intervention resulted in disagreements flaring into violence. Remembering how his cautions before arriving at Galidraan had helped that mission, Obi-Wan was determined to do his best to research everything thoroughly when he was sent out, especially once Anakin began coming along with him. 

Their first missions, if things went to plan, would likely be diplomatic or ceremonial; low risk situations as Anakin acclimated to life as a Padawan and gained some experience as a field Jedi, while Obi-Wan learned how to shepherd his charge outside of the Temple’s walls. Obi-Wan’s own training with first Master Jinn and then Master Dooku had been highly irregular, as he jumped from one high-risk situation to the next. While it had ensured he learned fast, Obi-Wan rather hoped Anakin’s first years of training as a Padawan were a bit more serene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Ad’ika = little one, child  
> Demagolkase = plural, ones who commit atrocities and war crimes (I’m almost positive I’ve done the pluralization wrong so if you have a tip on this specific thing, I’d be glad to hear it in the comments).  
> Gar ni shekemir = I follow you  
> Hut’uun = coward (worst possible insult)  
> Ibic ner ad’ika = this is my little one / child  
> ni kyr’tayl gai = I know your name  
> Olarom = welcome (greeting)  
> Ori’vod = big brother  
> Oya = Many meanings, literally *Let's hunt!* and also *Stay alive!*, but also *Hoorah!*, *Go you!*, *Cheers!* Always positive and triumphant.  
> Ramikadyc = commando state of mind  
> Riduur = spouse  
> Su’cuy = hi (from su cuy’gar = hello, lit. “you’re still alive”)  
> Su cuy’gar = hello, lit. “you’re still alive”  
> Sur’atiin = author’s best attempt at ‘forever drawing’ aka tattoo but specifically one with Mando cultural meaning  
> Udesii = calm down  
> Vode = siblings


	10. Chapter 10

Even as he focused on Anakin’s training and their missions, part of Obi-Wan’s mind lingered on his missing spouse. He was in frequent contact with the Haat Mando’ade and Arla, back on Concord Dawn. Neither Obi-Wan nor any of the others were willing to accept that Jango might be dead, and that communal belief helped reinforce their commitment to finding their Mand’alor. As soon as it was feasible, Obi-Wan met up with the clan so he could talk with Myles and Silas about the hunt for Jango, and so Anakin could greet some of them in person. 

Since it was Anakin’s first visit, the Haat Mando’ade also conducted Anakin’s official adoption into the clan, and arranged for the forms to be filed on Concord Dawn where his mother lived and worked. Once both the official and ceremonial aspects were taken care of, Anakin was introduced to more members of the clan. There were a number of teens aboard the _Daybreaker_ , adult by Mando tradition but not yet independent, and not yet recognized as full, legal adults in Mando or Republic space. Most of them were something like apprentices, getting experience on the starfighters or learning how to fix the ship’s systems. Anakin fell in with them readily, especially those who were more mechanically inclined. 

The pair of Jedi couldn’t stay too long, but Obi-Wan was reassured to spend time among people who missed Jango as much as he did, who were actively looking for their Mand’alor. Eventually though, a mission found its way to them, and Obi-Wan had to reconcile himself to the fact that while he might much prefer to spend all his time searching for clues about what led to Jango’s disappearance, duty had to come first. He and Jango had both made that decision early on.

Due to having a fairly young Padawan, Obi-Wan was often sent on missions that had a low risk of violence. He assiduously maintained his beskar’gam regardless, and wore it day to day. He crafted some armour pieces for Anakin as well, synthleather and durasteel gauntlets with a few handy attachments like liquid-cable ascension lines, and sheaths for spare tools and weaponry. Anakin rather looked forward to the day he finished growing, so he could design a full set of armour for himself. He’d taken well to the Resol’nare, and was already nearly fluent in Mando’a - a handy skill for when he and Obi-Wan wanted to converse privately but couldn’t excuse themselves from a room.

There were challenges, of course. Obi-Wan tried his best, but he was only human, and fallible. He and Anakin could argue for hours over nothing, although thankfully Anakin rarely held a grudge, and Obi-Wan ensured that they at least talked through their disagreements. It helped too, that within a year of Anakin becoming Obi-Wan’s Padawan - only a few months after Anakin’s first visit to the _Daybreaker_ \- the Haat Mando’ade took it upon themselves to offer Anakin’s mother, Shmi, a place with the clan. She accepted a placement on Concord Dawn, relocating her repair business to a settlement rife with people who thought of the Fetts fondly - she was family now after all. 

Obi-Wan found his Padawan much more tractable when Anakin had fairly regular comms from Shmi, who had been freed at the same time as Anakin, but had remained on Tatooine in the intervening years. Despite her freedom, her situation on Tatooine had been a constant source of worry for Anakin, and her easy acceptance into the clan also allowed Anakin to expand his definition of ‘his people’ a bit further. Anakin had bonded fairly well with other young Jedi before Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan, but still held much of the Order at a distance, his acceptance of them strained by his late arrival at the Temple. Obi-Wan did his best to smooth those rough patches when and where he could, understanding all too well the stigma an inauspicious start could leave.

Sharing his own past seemed to help; somehow Anakin had bought in at least a bit to the rumours of Obi-Wan’s dedication to Code and Council. The reputation of ‘The Sith-Slayer’ had gotten tangled up a bit over the years, with some Knights painting Obi-Wan as an ideal Jedi when he was well aware of his deviations from Code and doctrine. But talking about his defection on Melida/Daan seemed to help them both, as did the razzing the Haat Mando’ade were sure to give Obi-Wan whenever and wherever they met. Unfortunately, they didn’t meet as often as Obi-Wan would have liked. 

The Haat Mando’ade contracted their mercenary company in the conflicts that were sparking all over the galaxy, while Obi-Wan and Anakin focused on de-escalation of the tensions that led to those conflicts. From their many missions centered on mediation and negotiation, Obi-Wan had a reputation as a trustworthy diplomat, careful compromise honeying his words and silvering his tongue. The wordplay he’d learned at his Master’s side stood him in good stead, as did his more recent practice bickering with Anakin. 

Anakin listened, but couldn’t quite get the hang of dissimulation, of shifting the truth to fit their audience’s point of view. Obi-Wan found it endearing; Anakin, frustrating. When eloquence and logic was not enough, other, equally honed skills ensured Obi-Wan and his Padawan’s safety. 

“We do not all have the same strengths,” Obi-Wan reminded kindly and frequently when Anakin sulked about having put his foot in his mouth or stuttered when confronted with a pretty face. Obi-Wan’s own teenage years were not so long ago, and it would only harm their bond if he was dismissive rather than understanding. “You are far more skilled with machines than I am; it’s only fair I have talents you yourself do not possess.” Anakin shrugged at that, and gave way. Unfortunately, more and more often their missions of peace ended with ‘sabers drawn.

Although proficient with a lightsaber when they first went into the field together, Anakin was forced to become a daunting duellist in short order. He specialized at first in Soresu, mimicking his mentor’s deflections and parries. He didn’t quite have the patience or endurance for the third form though. Obi-Wan tried him with Makashi, but that was quickly set aside, as was Ataru. Shien, Anakin finally settled into, and began marrying it to the power of its sister form Djem-So. His dedication was necessary; conflict was spreading and worsening throughout the galaxy. The tensions that had flared up during the term of Chancellor Antilles continued - and worsened - after he left office and was succeeded by Fang Zar in the Chancellery.

By the time Anakin was nineteen, last-ditch mediation made up the bulk of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s missions. Occasionally they got plum assignments where their presence was purely ceremonial, and thankfully they spent at least a few months each year in Temple for Anakin to complete coursework and Obi-Wan to perform instructional rotations. Obi-Wan was always thankful for those months - while he loved his Padawan dearly, being Anakin’s sole companion and emotional support could be draining, especially now that Anakin was in his late teens and full of bright ideas and confidence. Obi-Wan did his best to guide the former and nurture the latter, although he knew some of the Masters at the Temple bemoaned his Padawan as arrogant. 

They didn’t see Anakin in his low moments; his self-recriminations when his enthusiastic attempts to help failed and people suffered for his actions. Anakin wasn’t always the best at planning; he had a tendency to rush in where even a Wookiee would fear to tread. But his heart was usually in the right place. It was one of his more endearing qualities, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, although it was also the one most likely to get them in trouble. 

By the tenth anniversary of the liberation of Naboo, Obi-Wan thought that if he could just get his Padawan to consider consequences a bit more, Anakin was almost ready for his Knighthood trials. Obi-Wan was both elated and nostalgic thinking on the prospect; on the one hand, he was immensely proud of how much Anakin had developed, as both a person and a Jedi. On the other, he would miss his Padawan a great deal once they parted ways; he’d become accustomed to Anakin’s grumpy complaints and fervid curiosity trailing at his shoulder over the years. 

Anakin was well aware that Obi-Wan was training him towards the trials by the time they were dispatched with Knight Unduli and Padawan Offee to a border dispute on Ansion. That they were sent to mediate such a puzzle was something like a compliment from the Council, even with the others along. Despite that Barriss was a newer Padawan, still getting her feet under her, her mentor Luminara was renowned in the Order for her serenity and knack for settling disputes. With so much duplicity on Ansion, and so many leads to chase down, the Jedi wanted their best negotiators on the job. 

The reputation and skill of the four Jedi wasn’t enough to prevent conflict on Ansion, and they were soon on the run. The four of them stuck together, but headed out away from the larger population centers. They were sheltered by some of the nomadic tribes, and managed even to achieve some of their mission goals in meeting with the Borokii Overclan and resolving their dispute with the Januul clan. However, there was still the matter of Soergg the Hutt, the instigator of much of their troubles, to resolve when their mission was cut short. 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin called, waving his comm in the air as he drew his Master’s attention. Obi-Wan had turned his comm to silent while speaking with some of the tribesmen who had taken them in there on Ansion, and left the sound off once the conversation finished, meditating to determine the path forward. There was no question that the tensions here were manufactured, but Obi-Wan couldn’t yet see the best way to de-escalate the situation. For Anakin to call him so loudly while he knew Obi-Wan was meditating - it had to be serious. 

Obi-Wan took out his comm and thumbed the sound back on, eyes widening as a stream of alerts began sounding, rattling the device in his hand. Quickly he selected the most recent, and opened a strongly worded recall notice from the Temple; all Knights were to return to Coruscant at best possible speed. Alarmed, he selected the message marked most urgent. 

“Obi-Wan, there’s no easy way to say this. Jan’s been killed. The Republic is at war. Come home at once. There will be a memorial as soon as you arrive,” Mace’s stern voice bit out. Obi-Wan felt like his heart dropped down through his stomach and out the soles of his boots. He nearly swayed in place before forcing himself to take a deep breath. He couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not here. Taking another steadying breath, Obi-Wan looked up in time to see Anakin’s face pale. Although Anakin and Jan didn’t get on terribly well, there was a stiff sort of affection between them, if only for Obi-Wan’s sake. 

“Master?” Anakin asked. 

“I don’t know yet,” Obi-Wan admitted, his heart racing. “I’ve only seen Mace’s personal message and the general recall so far. I’ll make our excuses to our hosts if you’ll find us the fastest transport to Coruscant.” Anakin nodded, jaw firming now that he had a mission to undertake, and he spun on his heel and practically sprinted to secure transportation to the nearest port. Obi-Wan bowed out of their mission as politely as he was able, making promises he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep.

As soon as he could, Obi-Wan gathered up their things and headed for the port. He found Anakin, Luminara and Barriss already there, all of them on edge, although Luminara hid it best. Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t much better. He could barely breathe through the knot of grief that had lodged in his throat. He forced himself not to think about Dooku - his Master would want him to do the most good for the most people. Even so, it was hard to concentrate on the other questions the communiques had raised in his mind. How had things escalated so quickly to actual war? While tensions had been rising for years, and Obi-Wan like all Jedi had the scars and stories to prove it, he hadn’t thought they were at the point of war.

The Separatists - outside the corporations - had some valid grievances at the outset of their movement, but the presence of the corporations themselves had seemed counter to their arguments, and the member states too quarrelsome to pull together as a fighting force. Obi-Wan had thought they wouldn’t ever actually organize well enough to form a separate alliance of planets, despite their stated ambitions. He hadn’t read enough to know much else. His mind kept circling back to Jan’s death. 

From the little Obi-Wan had gleaned through his grief, the Separatists had managed to find a figurehead to rally behind, and Obi-Wan dreaded learning his Master’s part in this escalation - and he had to have played a part, no matter how small, for his death and the announcement of war to be so inextricably linked. While Jan was a skilled diplomat, his patience had waned in recent years, and he’d become even more vocal in his criticism of the Council, the Senate, and the Republic itself. While those critical views sometimes helped Dooku on his diplomatic missions, they had won him no friends in the Order, as few Masters or Councilors liked to be scolded like younglings about how much more the Jedi could be doing, if they were able to intervene in situations before or without requests from the Senate.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin pace for much of the journey Core-ward. Luminara meditated, while Barriss buried herself in reading. Obi-Wan tried all three methods of subsuming his anxiety, reaching out into the Force on occasion, trying to feel his Master. Dooku was one with the Force, according to all Jedi doctrine and dogma, and Obi-Wan wanted more than anything else in the galaxy to feel his presence once more, just a hint, a breath, the slightest indication that something of Dooku still lingered on. But there was only an aching absence in the Force where his Master had always been, no lingering reassurance at all.

* * *

From the public spaceport where they docked, it was a few hours by shuttle to the Temple. Obi-Wan did his best to maintain his facade for the duration, but he was certain his mask slipped more than once. Dooku had been a pillar of support for half of Obi-Wan’s life, a trusted confidant and beloved guide. He had reassured Obi-Wan through the tough patches when he felt overwhelmed by his responsibility to Anakin, or his despair at Jango’s continued absence. He had given Obi-Wan invaluable advice when needed, and listened with a cup of tea and lack of judgement when Obi-Wan needed to rant. His Master was gone, and for all that he knew doctrine exhorted him to celebrate Dooku’s reunion with the Force, not grieve, Obi-Wan’s heart ached with loss.

When they arrived at the Temple, Master Windu himself awaited them, expression grim. If Obi-Wan had carried any doubt about the severity of the situation, it would have evaporated in the face of Windu’s formidable scowl. Obi-Wan had never envied the responsibilities of the Councillors, and it was clear that the Master of the Order’s duties weighed heavily on him. 

“Knights Kenobi and Unduli, Padawans Skywalker and Offee,” Mace greeted. 

“Master Windu,” they chorused with abbreviated bows. 

“The Council will debrief you immediately,” Windu informed them, and led them up into the spire himself. Sitting, Windu glanced at the other members of the High Council. All the chairs were filled, but some Councillors were present only via holo. “Have you been keeping abreast of the news as you travelled?” Mace asked.

“We were in hyperspace for the duration, until we reverted at the Coruscant beacons,” Obi-Wan said with a shake of his head. “I can only speak for myself, but I’ve read all that was sent prior to our departure from Ansion, and nothing since.”

“I glanced at the news when we reverted, but we’re out of the loop enough I couldn’t distinguish fact from rumour,” Anakin said, and Luminara and Barriss nodded their affirmation that they’d looked at the news as well, but not understood all that was reported. Mace let out a weary sigh. 

“I’ll tell you now that even with our Shadows parsing everything, _we’re_ having trouble separating truth from rumour as well,” Mace admitted. “These are the facts as we know them. Master Dooku was chasing down a new lead on a former member of the Council, Sifo-Dyas, who we lost touch with some years ago while he was on a mission for Chancellor Valorum. We had presumed Master Sifo-Dyas had rejoined the Force, and Master Dooku was able to confirm that. He also learned, however, that Master Sifo-Dyas died under extremely suspicious circumstances, and we authorized a continuation of Master Dooku’s mission to investigate what had happened. 

“Before his death, Master Dooku sent a large datapacket from Kamino, a world outside Republic space on the edge of the Rishi Maze. We’re still parsing everything, and I doubt Master Dooku was able to get the full picture in the time he was there, but it paints a grim picture. Someone, possibly Master Sifo-Dyas himself, ordered an army of cloned soldiers, millions strong, in the name of the Republic. Kamino itself is not in our infobanks, and Master Nu reports that there are a number of suspicious deletions in the master log - deletions she did not authorize. 

“In the course of his investigations into the creation of this army, Master Dooku had a lead that took him from Kamino to the Separatist world of Geonosis. He sent a transmission from there, but it was garbled. Our slicers are working to clean it up, but we’re not sure how much data we’ll recover. His last transmission from Geonosis documented a massive foundry producing battledroids, and the presence of numerous well-known Separatists, including the heads of most of the corporate guilds. Less than a day later, Master Dooku was publicly executed in Petranaki Arena on Geonosis, on accusations of espionage,” Mace bit out, and Obi-Wan swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

Force, how much would Dooku have despised such a death, Obi-Wan thought. Geonosis was much discussed despite being a desert world with few natural resources - it was a stronghold of the Confederacy, inhabited by insectoid sentients. They delighted in their public executions - chaining prisoners to posts in their arena and then setting feral animals on them so the prisoners were mauled to death in front of cheering crowds that numbered in the hundreds of thousands. It was likely Dooku had been tortured in captivity prior to his execution, and then to be made a public spectacle? No, Dooku would have abhorred such an end, although he would have faced it with as much dignity as remained to him. Obi-Wan’s heart ached.

“The Archduke Poggle of Geonosis has named himself head of the Confederacy of Independent Systems and declared war on the Republic, citing Jan’s presence as an instigating act. Chancellor Zar was granted emergency powers, and has used those powers to declare war on the CIS in turn, while also calling for negotiations to see if this can’t be solved peacefully. However, he has also nominally taken control of the army Jan found,” Mace continued. “According to Jan’s information, the Kaminoans designed the army to be lead by Jedi Generals. So far, we’ve been able to push back against that particular indignity, but I doubt we’ll be able to put the Chancellor off much longer. It would likely be easier for him politically to make the army a Jedi problem.” Mace took a breath, pausing in his long recitation. 

“All four of you are due a couple days of rest at the very least. Unfortunately that’s about all we can afford to give you. Even if we aren’t pulled into this mess as Generals, war on this scale will result in massive unrest, and Senate mandate or not, we have an obligation to assist those we can. We’ll hold a memorial for Master Dooku tonight at sunset. You’ll find full fact files on your terminals, as well as schedules for the next few days,” Mace closed, almost wilting. Although there were many years and disagreements between them, Obi-Wan knew Windu had respected Dooku deeply. 

“Thank you, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan said with quiet sincerity. “I shall meditate on what you have told us.” Mace nodded, and dismissed them with a silent handwave, his head tilting to rest wearily in his palm. 

“I’ll check what’s available at the refectory,” Anakin volunteered when they’d cleared the Council chamber doors. 

“Thank you, Anakin, that would be appreciated,” Obi-Wan said, giving his Padawan a thin smile. It was a handy excuse, Obi-Wan knew, to give him a little time alone with his grief.

“Courage,” Luminara exhorted in parting, and patted Obi-Wan’s bicep before leading Barriss away. Obi-Wan gave her the same dismal smile he gave Anakin, then quickly found his way to his quarters. The air was stale, the flat surfaces dusty. Obi-Wan ignored the blinking message lights on the datasuite and instead went straight to his bedroom, shucking out of his armour without checking it over, then collapsing onto his mattress and curling tight into a ball.

His Master was gone. Obi-Wan had known, of course, that given their respective ages it was likely that Jan would predecease him. But he hadn’t fully prepared himself for Dooku’s death. He had never imagined they wouldn’t have years yet before he had to worry about Dooku like that. Even when they were in perilous scrapes, Dooku had seemed invulnerable, like nothing could touch him. And now he was gone. A sob hitched in Obi-Wan’s chest, and then he was lost, curling around his pillow and weeping inconsolably. 

When Obi-Wan resurfaced, crusty-eyed and foggy-headed, he found Anakin sitting with him. His Padawan had wrapped a blanket around Obi-Wan, and was pressed against his side. Obi-Wan turned into Anakin’s warmth, hugging his little brother to him. He wanted his Master, Jan’s broad shoulders to lean on and strong arms to wrap him tight as if he were still a gangling teenager himself. He wanted Jango, the soft rumble of his husband’s voice and the gentle warmth of his affection.

“Su cuy’gar,” Anakin said, emphasizing the syllables carefully, sounding choked up himself. 

“Kaysh cuyir darasuum,” Obi-Wan choked out, trying to reassure himself with the idea that Jan was still with them, if only in spirit. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” Anakin hugged him tight, and Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. “How long until sunset?” he rasped out. 

“A couple hours yet, I brought some food from the refectory. Why don’t you clean up and I’ll put on some tea,” Anakin offered gently, and Obi-Wan leaned up, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Vor entye,” Obi-Wan said, and forced himself to his feet. He did feel rather disgusting. 

Anakin shuffled off, and Obi-Wan made himself to go clean up as directed. When he dragged himself out to the common area, washed up and dressed in clean clothing, Anakin had warmed the food and poured each of them a cup of fragrant shig rather than tea. Obi-Wan smiled slightly at that, the citrusy scent invigorating him a bit before he’d even had any to drink. 

“Vor’e,” Obi-Wan said, and settled in, sipping at the steaming shig and eating some noodles. 

As Obi-Wan had half expected, Anakin had chosen a dish that was spiced heavily enough to bring tears to Obi-Wan’s eyes and clear his sinuses. There were many good reasons his Padawan had fit in so well with the Mando’ade, and fondness for overly spiced food was one of them. 

Anakin slurped his own noodles loudly, grinning around his messy mouthful when Obi-Wan gave him a tired glare. Anakin knew by now that poor manners ticked his mentor off, but he had also made a fairly well calculated guess that Obi-Wan would rather feel just about anything other than sorrow at the moment. He couldn’t imagine how devastated he’d be if he lost Obi-Wan, and hoped with all he was that he wouldn’t find out anytime soon.

When they finished eating, Obi-Wan retreated to his room. Anakin debated following after him, but refrained, instead fussing about, straightening things that didn’t need straightening. He’d never been to a Jedi funeral before, and he wasn’t much looking forward to this one. After knocking about in the common area for awhile, Anakin used the ‘fresher and then retreated to his own room, fairly certain that his battered motley of robes and armour wasn’t appropriate for the occasion. Hopefully, the formal robes the quartermaster had allotted him a few years back still fit.

Anakin was fidgeting with his clothing when Obi-Wan reappeared. The trousers fit well enough in the waist, and his tall boots disguised the fact that the legs were more than a few centimetres too short. The tunics were more obviously the wrong size, tight across his chest and shoulders and too short in the sleeves. The tabards disguised some of it, but Anakin was distinctly uncomfortable, and made more so by the fact that he hadn’t been without at least armoured gauntlets since he became a Padawan. 

It was even stranger seeing Obi-Wan in standard Jedi robes, although Anakin was willing to admit the softer garb did suit his mentor. It was strange to see him without his armour all the same. Beskar’gam was as much self-expression as protection, and as long as Anakin had known Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan had been wearing the same suit of armourweave and durasteel that Jango had given him at Galidraan. Obi-Wan gave Anakin a thin smile, and crossed to his Padawan, gently fussing with his tunics a bit.

“Won’t work, they’re too small,” Anakin said, and refrained from shrugging. He’d already nearly ripped a seam dressing himself. 

“We’ll have to remedy that,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “If we’re truly at war, I fear there are many funerals in our future.” Anakin dipped his head, mouth turning down at the prospect. War. He knew the Haat Mando’ade made their living as mercenaries, but the prospect of galaxy-wide war was on such a massively different scale he had difficulty comprehending it. 

“Bloody Separatists,” Anakin grumped. 

“Hmmm,” Obi-Wan said mildly, and patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s get this over with so I can get hammered.”

Anakin let out a soft scoff, but nodded, and accompanied him down through the winding corridors to the memorial hall. There would be no body to cremate - the Separatists hadn’t deigned to return what was left of Jan for the traditional Jedi funeral rites. 

The memorial hall Yoda had chosen to celebrate his former Padawan’s life was deep in the ancient labyrinthine passages of the Temple, resplendent with pre-Reformation frescoes and statuary. It was one of the few chapels remaining with depictions of friendly Mando’ade. Yoda recognized that while not as blatant about it as Obi-Wan, Jan Dooku too had been claimed by Mandalore, and that Dooku had viewed that adoption as an honour on par with his birthright as a noble scion of one of the Great Houses of Serenno. 

All the members of the High Council were there when Obi-Wan and Anakin arrived, along with Jocasta Nu and Tera Sinube, who were among Jan’s few remaining age-mates. One of Jan’s other friends, Ky Narec, had come from the Altisian sect with his Padawan, Asajj Ventress. Qui-Gon Jinn was there too, as was Jinn’s renounced first Padawan, Feemor Stahl. Obi-Wan nodded his greetings to the room at large, then crossed to Feemor and let himself be enveloped in a hug. While they did not see each other often with their missions so often sending them to the far reaches of the galaxy, they had bonded early in Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship to Dooku, when Obi-Wan was constantly struggling with his self-worth after being abandoned by his first Master. 

The ceremony wasn’t terribly formal, much to Anakin’s relief. Yoda said a few words of remembrance, his voice even smaller and scratchier than usual. Master Jinn said a few gruff words as well, all but damning Jan with faint praise. When the eyes of those gathered fell on Obi-Wan, he swallowed, lifting his chin, uncaring of the tears that painted silvery tracks down his cheeks. 

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Jan Dooku,” Obi-Wan said, voice thick as he recited the traditional Mando’a remembrance. “Ni partayli, nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” Anakin glanced around, fairly certain that he was among the minority that understood Obi-Wan’s utterance. 

“Nu kyr’adyc, draar kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” Anakin echoed, and his mentor gave him that thin, sad smile, dipping his head and flooding their bond with quiet gratitude. A few other Jedi spoke, and Anakin did his best to pay respectful attention, more out of his obligation to Obi-Wan than any true desire to listen to their eulogizing. Jan had been well known though, if not always well loved. Anakin was a little surprised that so few people came to the ceremony, given how well known Dooku was inside the Jedi Order. He imagined Yoda had somehow managed to ensure the ceremony itself was somewhat private, reserved for those who knew Jan personally. 

When the memorial ended, Obi-Wan and Anakin stayed a bit longer, accepting condolences. Anakin was thankful he could mostly just stand stonily at Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The idea of reiterating the tired and trite maxims about loss so many times was almost nauseating. He didn’t know how Obi-Wan could manage it without decking someone, especially Master Jinn, who had always sneered at Obi-Wan and Anakin both. 

Anakin knew the tall Master had briefly been Obi-Wan’s mentor, and while Jinn hadn’t always agreed with Jan or got along with him, Anakin was grateful not to have to deal with Jinn more regularly. While Anakin's own reckless streak was bred in deep and wide, Obi-Wan at least encouraged him towards strategy and planning. Jinn’s maxims about following the will of the Force, staying in the moment, and not concerning oneself with the future, always sounded a bit like excuses to do as he pleased, and rub the Council’s noses in the consequences instead of dealing with them himself.

Thankfully, the standing about and talking was over before too long. The room emptied save Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Master Yoda. Anakin waited awkwardly as Obi-Wan went to the ancient being, kneeling and hugging him gently, and sharing a few quiet words. They were soon on their way back up to the residential section of the Temple. As they approached their apartment, Quinlan Vos joined them, his recently-Knighted former-Padawan Aayla Secura with him. 

“Here to impose yourself on my drinking time?” Obi-Wan guessed in greeting. 

“Yup,” Quinlan said with a slight smile, throwing his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Figured Aayla could babysit the squirt.”

“You realize I’m taller than you now, right?” Anakin asked, and Quinlan grinned at him.

“Not half so handsome though, speedy,” Quinlan quipped, and Anakin rolled his eyes in exasperation. He actually liked Quinlan most of the time, but the older Jedi could be quite the irritant when he put his mind to the task. 

“You’ll be okay, ori’vod?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan just to be sure. Spending time with Aayla did sound more entertaining than watching Obi-Wan get plastered. And he’d probably be drinking tihaar, which would make him sad about missing Jango as well as the loss of Jan. 

“I’ll be fine, An’ika,” Obi-Wan promised, tugging him down to brush their foreheads together. 

Anakin flushed slightly, but nodded, and was soon off with Aayla, heading for one of the areas older Padawans and young Knights repurposed for hanging out. When they arrived, the twin Knights Tiplee and Tiplar were already there. While closer in age to Aayla than himself, Anakin had attended classes with them since arriving in the Temple, and he was friendly with both Mikkians. 

Anakin enjoyed his evening with Aayla, Tiplee, and Tiplar, making up somewhat for the even more over-the-top than usual holodrama Aayla had chosen, imported from Ryloth complete with overblown plot interrupted by spontaneous musical numbers. It was late when Anakin finally returned to the apartment he shared with Obi-Wan, and he wasn’t overly surprised to find Quinlan passed out on the sofa in the common area. Going to the kitchenette, Anakin filled a tall glass with water and left it on the low table in the common room. He left another on Obi-Wan’s nightstand after checking and finding his mentor passed out in his under-tunics. At least he hadn’t gone to bed in his full robes. 

Come morning, Anakin was the first one up, a rarity. He stumbled to the ‘fresher and washed up, then dressed in what was, for him, everyday gear; black armourweave jumpsuit, knee high boots with durasteel toes and fronts, and black synthleather tabards over his jumpsuit, his sole concession to Jedi garb. For missions, he had synthleather and durasteel gauntlets and greaves too. The gauntlets were the same set that Obi-Wan had given him years before, although altered and upgraded as he grew and became more proficient in their use. 

Vos was still passed out on the couch when Anakin finished dressing, and so Anakin shrugged, then put on the kettle. Obi-Wan stumbled out in an oversized old undertunic when Anakin began frying sausages and eggs, bleary-eyed and wild-haired. Anakin wisely held in his snort of amusement as Obi-Wan poured himself caff and guzzled it scalding hot instead of brewing his usual shig. 

“Thanks for the water,” Obi-Wan muttered, and all but collapsed at the table, head cradled in his arms. “Remind me never to drink again.”

“Here,” Anakin said quietly, and pushed some toast at him. Obi-Wan groaned and nibbled at it slowly. Before long, Quinlan stumbled over and joined Obi-Wan, drinking his hot caff in almost the same manner. 

“Fuck me,” Quinlan moaned, then poured himself another mug of caff. 

“Sorry, married,” Obi-Wan said primly, although the joke felt a bit flat. Definitely missing Jango more than usual. Anakin owed the Mand’alor a punch to the face when the hut’uun finally surfaced. 

Obi-Wan refilled his mug, although this time he went for shig rather than caff. Quinlan just grumbled, leaning over to press a kiss against Obi-Wan’s mussed hair. Quinlan didn’t stay long, stealing a couple sausages out of the pan and then shuffling off muttering about research. 

“Plans for the day?” Anakin asked when Obi-Wan had perked up a bit.

“Catching up on messages,” Obi-Wan said with a grimace. “Yoda said we’ll probably only get a week or so of downtime, or rather, datawork. They want us to look at the last databurst Jan sent from Kamino. We’ll probably be heading there before long, to see if we can pick up what sent him to Geonosis.” Anakin nodded. It seemed almost cruel, but he could sort of understand the Council’s reasoning. As Jan’s former Padawan, Obi-Wan was familiar with the way his old mentor thought and conducted his investigations.

“I’m also going to repaint my pauldron,” Obi-Wan said, tapping his right shoulder. That was the pauldron, Anakin knew, that boasted the sigil of the Jedi Order. Probably red, Anakin guessed, in Dooku’s honour. The Mando’ade used red to honour a parent, and Anakin knew Obi-Wan thought of Dooku as something like a father. He nodded. “You have plans?” Obi-Wan asked, rising and carrying his dishes into the kitchenette. 

“Messages, see who’s in Temple,” Anakin said with a shrug. “Probably look for some sparring partners and see what’s in the hangars.”

“All your usual haunts, then,” Obi-Wan said with a slight smile, and Anakin shrugged. No use denying the truth. “Alright, then,” Obi-Wan said, and went off to start his day. 

When Anakin returned hours later, Obi-Wan was out. Stealing into his mentor’s room as he had so many times before, Anakin looked over Obi-Wan’s beskar’gam. The changes were easy to spot; the pauldron had been repainted in deep red, and picked out on top was the Jedi Order’s ancient symbol of wings and raised ‘saber in the sandy gold shade of vengeance. It was clear Obi-Wan had done some maintenance as well, mending weak spots in the armourweave and ensuring everything was in top order. It wasn’t an altogether bad idea, and Anakin knew his own kit could probably use some attention. Especially if they would be sent out again soon. With a sigh, he went to gather his things.

Their furlough ended up being about two Standard weeks, although a good portion of that was spent reading and organizing the information Dooku had sent before his ship was destroyed. The information on the cloned soldiers alone was more than a little disturbing. Millions of modified humans, their genome altered to make them stronger, faster, and more loyal than their as-yet-unnamed genetic source. Grown at twice the rate of an unmodified human and flash-trained in their tubes until they were big enough to walk and talk upon being ‘decanted.’ It was like something out of a horror holo.

The idea of Jedi becoming Generals, as Dooku had outlined in the Kaminoans’ plans, sat wrong with Obi-Wan too, grating against his moral code like the edge of an ill-fitting plate of armour. The concept of Jedi Generals leading an army of beings who were at best enslaved, but more likely brainwashed into some sort of cultish reverence for Jedi, was even worse. What if a Jedi General gave an inadvisable order? Would such soldiers even be able to question it, never mind refuse? 

Obi-Wan knew that his service record prior to taking on Anakin as a Padawan was anomalously violent for a Jedi. His military training, such as it was, was mostly readings on strategy and ethics, and more missions spent fighting in guerilla wars than he really liked to think about. His time among the Mando’ade had broadened his education on the subject of war considerably, but he was well aware that he was by no means an expert. The more he had learned, the clearer that had become. And yet he was likely the closest the Order had to a military strategist, save perhaps Master Yoda and some of the other more ancient Masters, who had lived through more violent periods.

It was daunting, and even more so when Obi-Wan considered that likely Jan had only been able to glean a partial picture of the situation before rushing off to Geonosis and his death. They would hopefully discover the rest on Kamino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure quite what the exact age difference is between Anakin and Aayla, but I wanted to make her not too much older than him, and a sort of big sister figure. I also made Tiplee and Tiplar Aayla’s agemates and friends because I want Anakin to have support other than Obi-Wan even if all that is in the background.
> 
> **Mando’a:**  
>  Buir = father  
> Draar = never  
> Hut’uun = coward  
> kaysh cuyir darasuum = he is eternal  
> Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum = Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.* Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.  
> Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la = Not gone, merely marching far away. (Tribute to a dead comrade.)  
> Shig = beverage - any infusion of whatever's available, but usually a mildly stimulant herb with a citrus flavor called behot  
> Su cuy’gar = you are still alive  
> Vor entye = thank you


	11. Chapter 11

When Obi-Wan and Anakin were deployed, it was, as Master Windu had suggested, to Kamino. They had the notes for where the system ought to be, and Jan’s fragmented flight logs to help them on their way. It would hopefully get them where they needed to be. They also had strict instructions that they weren’t to go haring off on any ancillary missions before returning to Coruscant and reporting in person to the Council on the army the Republic had evidently ordered ten years prior through a now dead Master of their own Order. 

Flying a pair of Aethersprite Delta-7 Interceptors, travel time to the Rishi Maze was a full Standard week. Obi-Wan read through their information repeatedly in hyperspace, his mind snagging on the huge gaps Jan had left. His Master had clearly censored his reports; the holes were big enough to drive a Judicial cruiser through. It made Obi-Wan extremely nervous. While Jan had always been cautious, this went beyond, bordering on paranoia. 

“Well, there it is,” Anakin’s voice came over comms when they reverted to realspace over a watery blue orb. From the limited telemetry Dooku had sent back, it was an ocean planet with a breathable atmosphere. “I’ll fly sweep,” Anakin volunteered before Obi-Wan could request his Padawan remain airborne. On missions like this, it was best for one of them to stay aloft as backup in case of emergency extraction, and Obi-Wan was - if only slightly - less likely to commit a diplomatic gaffe that would get him detained.

“I would appreciate it,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Full scanner sweep and so forth, you know the first contact drill, even if this isn’t actually first contact.” 

“Affirmative,” Anakin agreed. With the database record purged, Master Nu had all but demanded they gather all necessary information for a new entry to be inserted in the archives. 

“If we need additional backup, the _Daybreaker_ is only a few days away on standby,” Obi-Wan reminded. “I would prefer not to involve them in this mess, but they’re closer than the Order. I’ll have Arfour relay my sensor information, and be back in touch in a few hours.”

“Alright, how long should I give you before I contact the _Daybreaker_ and the Order?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan chuckled. It was true that lately their missions went south more often than not. Anakin had gained skills at a rapid pace through necessity. Best to know in advance what the cut-off was.

“Twelve hours without contact,” Obi-Wan said after a little consideration. “I don’t think it will be that long, though I may ask you to stay aloft for a while longer.”

“That’s fine, better I stay up here than put my foot in my mouth down there,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan could almost see his nonchalant shrug. His Padawan might be charming, but a mediator he was not.

“Alright, I’ll be in touch soon,” Obi-Wan said with confidence he didn’t fully feel, then began his approach. The inhabitants were clearly expecting someone, from the transmissions he soon picked up. Perhaps Jan had warned them that he would be back? Or that someone else would follow? Either possibility was an option. Obi-Wan just ensured that Anakin was receiving everything as well, then followed the landing instructions to Tipoca City. He was directed to an exposed circular landing pad in a built landscape of pale, glossy domes. For a few moments, he just sat in his cockpit, doing checks he usually left to the astromech. The lashing rain was not a particularly welcoming environment, and it didn’t appear anyone was waiting on him. 

After a bit more avoidance, Obi-Wan opened his cockpit envelope with a disgruntled sigh and dashed through the rain to the nearest lit entryway, glad that his armour was somewhat waterproof. It didn’t feel quite like a trap, but that didn’t always mean it wasn’t a trap. 

Maybe not a trap, Obi-Wan decided when he’d been led to meet with the Prime Minister, but still something unwelcome. And then they proudly showed Obi-Wan the army they’d created for the Jedi, and he was looking at his husband’s face, thousands of times over, younger than he’d ever known Jango. 

“The genetic source of the clones?” Obi-Wan asked in his most ingratiating tones, as if he wasn’t choking down fury hot enough to boil his blood.

“A bounty hunter,” the Kaminoan guiding him said dismissively. “As we told Master Dooku, we requested Master Sifo-Dyas let us clone a Jedi, but he was insistent that this would be sufficient.” Obi-Wan was glad he had his helmet on - he couldn’t keep his disgust from his face, and was unsure how well a Kaminoan might be able to decipher human facial expressions and link them to the underlying emotions. He was beginning to doubt, as he thought his Master might have, that Sifo-Dyas had ever set foot in the same quadrant as Kamino, never mind on the planet. If a Jedi had truly perpetrated this horror, Obi-Wan no longer wished to claim the title for himself.

“And what has happened to this bounty hunter?” Obi-Wan asked, pushing past his disgust. 

“He has remained here with us,” the Kaminoan said. Anything else the Kaminoan said was inaudible over the blood thundering in Obi-Wan’s ears. Here. His beloved was here. Jan would have known. And Jan had hidden that from him. Why? Why hadn’t Jan put that in his report? Had he not trusted Obi-Wan to contain himself? Or was there something more insidious at work? 

“I would meet this man,” Obi-Wan declared, feeling as though he were speaking around all the sand on Tatooine lodged in his throat. 

“Of course,” the Kaminoan acceded, and Obi-Wan followed along the curving colourless corridors, his heart hammering in his chest. It didn’t take long for his sense of direction to be thoroughly confused; the place was a labyrinth, and if there were distinguishing characteristics on any of the walls, neither Obi-Wan’s eyes nor his helmet’s HUD were picking up on them. He was recording and mapping everything, so he could build a layout of the city once he linked into a terminal.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said into his in-helmet comm when he thought he could speak without going into hysterics. “Jango’s here. I need you to alert Arla and the _Daybreaker_. Stay aloft for now, and tell them that if they come, remain out of sensor range for the moment. I don’t have enough of the picture yet.” 

“On it, ori’vod,” Anakin promised grimly, and Obi-Wan cut the transmission, hoping it had gone unnoticed by their hosts. 

Jango. Here. Obi-Wan’s mind ceaselessly circled the idea. How long? Was it the Kaminoans who had captured Jango? That seemed unlikely - there was nothing in what Obi-Wan had seen that would indicate they were a warlike race themselves, and it would have taken a great deal of skill to capture Jango. There was at least one more party involved then. Sifo-Dyas? Had the old prophet truly Fallen? Or had someone else used his name to their own ends? Few would question a being claiming to be a Jedi on a mission.

As they reached the residential part of the facility, the massive transparisteel viewports looking out over the cloning facilities and training grounds gave way to more closely placed doors, each boasting a biometric sensor restricting access. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but note the higher level of security - the offices they had spoken in earlier had been secured only by sleek pressure pads, with no evidence of biometric sensors. The access pads here were larger and more complex, requiring a numeric code as well as chip verification, and boasted gleaming camera eyes to monitor who was accessing the area. It wasn’t quite like a detention center, but it was clear that the residents were likely there under some degree of duress. His heart clenched. 

Had they harmed Jango beyond keeping him captive and isolated from his family and people? The Kaminoans didn’t seem vicious, but they clearly didn’t abide by the same moral code as most of the rest of the galaxy, if they were willing to conduct full-sentient cloning. Their aversion to humans seemed to stem from a feeling of aloof superiority rather than other, more violent types of disdain. Even so, Obi-Wan didn’t want to underestimate their contempt and have it blow up in his face.

They reached a door indistinguishable from those flanking it and Obi-Wan’s guide tapped out an access code on the security pad. Obi-Wan tried to see the order of the digits, but a datachip was pressed into the slot, and he knew that wasn’t something he could fake. The Kaminoan (Obi-Wan realized he did himself and this guide a disservice by not bothering to remember their name, but he could hardly remember his own name at the moment) alerted the residence. Jango’s residence. Here. 

The door opened, and there was Obi-Wan’s beloved. The recognition in Jango’s eyes was instant, even as he kept his bare face as immobile as possible. But those familiar dark eyes knew Obi-Wan immediately, Obi-Wan was sure of it, even though the markings on his beskar’gam had been repainted a time or two since their last meeting. Jango looked worn, tired. He was dressed in soft, loose clothing, and Obi-Wan suspected Jango had been kept separate from anything that might resemble armour or weapons, otherwise he would either be free or visibly injured from escape attempts. 

Jango had gained a bit of weight, and Obi-Wan found he liked the softness it gave his riduur. Jango’s frame had always been solidly built, but now there was a bit of fat over the thick muscle. What he didn’t like, though, was the stress that lined Jango’s face. Every year between them, every year they’d been separated, was graven into Jango’s skin. 

“Taun We,” Jango greeted coolly. 

“This Jedi wished to meet you,” Taun We said, gesturing at Obi-Wan as if the Jedi were little more than an annoyance. 

“I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan introduced himself with a slight bow, as if Jango didn’t know him better than almost anyone. “I have a few questions for you...”

“Jango Fett,” Jango introduced himself, with an almost imperceptible dip of the head to indicate he understood and would play along with the falsehood of not knowing one another. “I’m happy to answer questions for you.” He paused, cocking his head slightly. “I’m sure you have more important things to do, Taun We. I can comm you when the Jedi and I are finished talking.” 

It wasn’t exactly a command - Obi-Wan was fairly certain Jango didn’t have that type of power here. But the combination of Jango’s dismissive tone and the appeal to the Kaminoan’s sense of superiority seemed to do the trick. Taun We hesitated a moment, then nodded and showed themself out of the apartment. While they had been introducing themselves, and while Taun We decided whether or not to leave them alone together, Obi-Wan had been running every countersurveillance tool in his beskar’gam. Every sweep came up clean - either Jango’s apartment wasn’t monitored, or it wasn’t monitored in any way he could detect. 

As soon as the door closed and he sensed they were alone, Obi-Wan all but threw himself at his husband, hugging Jango tightly before tearing off his buy’ce to kiss him desperately. Jango kissed back eagerly, clutching Obi-Wan close, fingers scrabbling over smooth armour plating as he tried to pull Obi-Wan even closer. It had been years since they had seen one another, and while Obi-Wan had refused to give up hope, refused to believe his husband was dead, that didn’t mean finding him was any less unexpected. 

“Missed you,” Obi-Wan murmured in between peppering Jango’s face with kisses, each exhalation forming Jango’s name on his lips. “Missed you so much, Jango.”

“Missed you too, cyar’ika,” Jango breathed back. “I - I don’t know if they’ll let me go.”

“Explain it to me. About gave me a heart attack when I saw all your boys down there.”

“Got a job through a contact, coordinates to meet on one of the moons of Bogden. I messed up, got cocky. Didn’t think anything of it when the client asked me to take off my buy’ce for visual confirmation after I beat out Montross in competition for the contract. Woke up here. They must have kept me out for a while, because they handed me a baby as soon as I woke up, told me he was my son and I’d cooperate if I wanted him to grow up safe and healthy,” Jango explained, quiet and angry. Obi-Wan’s protective instincts flared as well. 

“We’ll find a way,” Obi-Wan promised. “I’ve picked up an ad’ika of my own,” he admitted. Jango raised an eyebrow in question. “Padawan, name of Anakin Skywalker, you may remember him?” he teased with a smile. “He’s nearly a Knight already, and his mother’s been taken into the clan. The _Daybreaker_ is likely already on their way here, although I told them to stay out of sensor range.” Jango grinned briefly; he definitely remembered Obi-Wan talking about the little blond terror that Aayla and Quinlan had picked up on Tatooine.

“I don’t get much freedom, but I know they have a bunch of Mando’ade training the army. Some of them are soldiers I might be able to trust; some of them - some of them were in Vizsla’s faction,” Jango said with a low growl in his voice.

Obi-Wan bristled at the name. Death Watch was still a threat to the peace of Mandalore, despite the work the Haat Mando’ade had undertaken to dismantle the organization. Not as much of a threat as they once had been, but still a threat nonetheless.

“My aliit?” Jango asked. Obi-Wan was unsurprised - family was everything to Jango.

“Never more than a comm away,” Obi-Wan promised. “They’ve done well in your absence. Myles has been running the search for you from their end, while Silas keeps the company in business, and Arla keeps the home-fires burning. They’ve always believed me when I say you live yet, and they can keep the others in line. I’m going to get you out of here Jango, you and our ad.”

“How many are they, my ade?” Jango asked, his voice strained. “Can we evacuate all of them?”

“Millions, and some are still in tubes,” Obi-Wan said with a shake of the head. “There’s no way we can fit them all on the _Daybreaker_. And - officially they’re the Grand Army of the Republic - property.” Jango grimaced, but dipped his head in acknowledgement. He’d find a way to get his ade free, he just had to find a plan. For now, there wasn’t anything he could do, and he had Obi-Wan back in his arms.

“Ner jet’ika,” Jango murmured fondly, and kissed his husband slow and deep, burning this moment into his mind. “Ner mesh’la riduur.” Obi-Wan flushed, but kissed Jango back without hesitation. The relief of being with Jango once again was nearly overwhelming. His concerns over the clones and their mysterious origin, and the ominous Military Creation Act, still raced in the back of his mind. But holding Jango, kissing Jango - anything seemed possible when they were together.

They stumbled into Jango’s bedroom, Jango easily shucking his loose tunic and trousers, then helping Obi-Wan divest himself of his beskar’gam. His fingers trailed over the new scars that littered Obi-Wan’s pale skin, although thankfully there weren’t too many. He kissed some of them, but was easily distracted by more bared skin, by the warmth of Obi-Wan pressed against him. Obi-Wan was nearly trembling with need himself, and subject to the same compulsion to touch, to kiss, to re-learn every bit of his beloved’s body. 

“Need you,” Jango growled, pulling Obi-Wan down on top of him once he finally had his Jetii stripped to the skin. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed breathlessly, flinging out his hand to summon his utility belt. Jango let out a short bark of disbelieving laughter when Obi-Wan produced a tube of slick from one of the pouches, then pulled his riduur in for a biting kiss. 

“Yours,” Jango affirmed, and Obi-Wan kissed him more softly. 

“As I’m yours,” Obi-Wan agreed, and wrapped his slicked hand around both their cocks. Jango groaned, and neither of them lasted long, clinging to one another as they thrust together, drunk off one another’s touches after so long apart. Obi-Wan came first with a choked back sob, then collapsed over Jango, barely having the wherewithal to continue stroking his husband through orgasm. They clung to one another, trembling in the aftermath. 

Neither could bear even the thought of separation for long minutes. Their kisses and touches softened, heads nuzzling together so they could just breathe one another in, hands mapping and shaping the planes and curves of their muscles and the hard juts of bone under their skin. Obi-Wan traced the familiar lines of Jango’s sur’atiin, his finger mapping genealogy and promises, bonds of blood and choice inked under Jango’s skin.

“I missed you,” Jango rasped, leaning up to kiss Obi-Wan’s sur’atiin. Obi-Wan could only nod, press himself tighter against Jango. Jango just held him as Obi-Wan finally let the tears come, years of stress and hope and fear washing from him.

“Jan was here,” Obi-Wan said later, when they could separate themselves a little, could think of something other than the desperate relief of being together again. Jango nodded, glancing over at the repainted pauldron where it lay with the rest of Obi-Wan’s hastily shed armour. 

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Jango asked. Obi-Wan nodded. 

“Taab’echaaj’la,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “They killed him on Geonosis.” Jango shuddered, well aware the type of death Jan would have faced there. 

“With a couple of the other trainers, I’d pieced together some things,” Jango said quietly, hands moving restlessly over Obi-Wan’s skin. “Most of them are here willingly; they’re mercenaries, and pay is good, plus it’s a bolt hole they can’t be traced back to. But some of them are sadistic bastards. I stopped a fighting ring one of them was running by breaking the hut’uun’s skull. Since then, I’ve been restricted to quarters except when they need me in the lab for a new sample. Earlier on, they let me train some of the ade, but only the one group. I trained them too Mando’ade, too independent for the longnecks. Kal Skirata is here too, he’s got his own gang of ornery muscleheads, he’s all but adopted them I think, but I haven’t been able to talk to him.” Obi-Wan snorted at that. He knew Skirata, but not well, and hadn’t seen the man in years - not since shortly after Jango had disappeared.

“Our ad’ika, tell me about him?” Obi-Wan asked, and a true smile, warm and fond broke over Jango’s face. 

“His name is Boba,” Jango said, and told Obi-Wan all about his son. _Lucky_ , Obi-Wan translated mentally. A good name. Jango had shared tales of Obi-Wan with Boba too, when he could bear to speak about his riduur. “He’ll be home soon from lessons, he does basic schooling with the others. It’s not quite like having brothers, they grow so much faster than him, but I think it helps them - and him. They see they’re not so different, and since I’ve taught him that they’re his brothers, he tries to teach them that too, such as he can. It’s not much, not damned near enough, but it’s something.” 

“You’d claim them all if you could,” Obi-Wan said with quiet understanding. Jango nodded, eyes sad. 

“I would,” Jango agreed. “I have, despite that I barely know them, despite that they’re decanted by the batch. They’re my ade, my ad’ike.” Obi-Wan hugged Jango close, his heart breaking again with the sheer scale of this atrocity. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Obi-Wan promised. “They’re mine too now.” 

Jango gave a wan smile at that, nuzzling close to Obi-Wan and breathing him in. He steeled himself and began telling Obi-Wan all the horrors that Jan had omitted from his reports; how the clones were tested and vetted from the embryonic stages; how those the Kaminoan scientists deemed ‘defective’ were ‘culled’ - Jango wasn’t sure if they were killed outright or experimented on, but they weren’t ever seen again. Those whose ‘defects’ were only visible later on were ‘culled’ as well - again, Jango wasn’t sure if that meant death or something else. Neither option was particularly palatable, but it was clear that the Kaminoans didn’t hold humans in high regard to start with, and the clones were merely ‘product’ to them, not even in the same class as natural-born humans. Obi-Wan found the mindset wholly repulsive.

“What would count as defective to them?” Obi-Wan asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know, but needing to prepare himself.

“This is rumour and hearsay, not fact,” Jango warned. Obi-Wan nodded his understanding. “As you know, some of my ancestors had interesting taste in mates. So, although I look mainline human, genetically I’d be better classified as near-human. Some ‘defective’ clones are those that exhibit the non-human DNA to a greater degree than I do - they have fur, or non-human-standard eyes, or ears that come to a point, or any number of other attributes that are seen as other than human. 

“Others were deemed defective for being female. I’ve heard rumours that there were a few Force-sensitive clones culled not long after decanting. Some are deemed defective for being too aggressive, others, not aggressive enough. Various developmental differences that would simply see them given a personalized education if they were born on any Republic or Mando world. Even physical deformities that are usually easily ameliorated, like cleft palate.”

“Force,” Obi-Wan breathed, grinding the heels of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars. 

“There’s reasons I don’t get to interact with them much,” Jango said grimly. “When I first heard about the culling I broke a Kaminoan’s neck. I would have killed a few more of them if it wasn’t for the chip.”

“Chip?” Obi-Wan commanded, and Jango angled his head, touching an unremarkable patch of skin at the side of his neck. 

“Subdermal. I don’t know its full capabilities, just that it packs enough punch to knock me unconscious. When they’ve knocked me out with it my head aches for days, leaves me weak and nauseous, like taking a bad blow to the head. It’s small enough I can’t feel it, otherwise I’d have tried to cut it out already, and damn the consequences,” Jango admitted. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, reaching out to run his fingers over that same bit of skin. Jango shivered at the featherlight touch, and then his eyes widened in surprise as he felt a slight pinch beneath his skin. “Did you just-?”

“Disable your chip?” Obi-Way finished guilelessly, eyes wide with mock innocence. Jango barked out a laugh of startled delight, then leaned in to kiss his riduur deeply. “If they’ve chipped you though, I’m not sure I want to know what methods of control they’ve visited on the ad’ike.”

“We’ll find out, disable it too,” Jango promised firmly, and Obi-Wan nodded his agreement. They curled back together, clinging to one another, stocking up the sensation in case they couldn’t find a way to get Jango free of this watery world. 

“Anakin is flying overwatch, and I should contact him soon,” Obi-Wan said after a bit more snuggling. “I’ll tell him to stay aloft for now - I’m hoping to find a place where he can land unobserved and get into the servers, slice all the information they’ll keep from me.” 

Jango nodded, wracking his mind. He hadn’t been permitted to wander much; the Kaminoans kept a close eye on their walking gene bank. The other bounty hunters who made up the training corps had much more freedom, coming and going as they pleased in their free time. Then again, they had been paid to disappear for a while. Jango had never imagined he was signing on for this when he’d agreed to compete against Montross for a bounty.

“I’m not sure I’ll be much help to you,” Jango admitted. “But Boba will be back soon. You’ll stay for late-meal?”

“I’ll stay as long as you think I can without arousing suspicion,” Obi-Wan promised. “We’ll find a way to get you and Boba out of here, even if I have to smuggle you in my Aethersprite.” 

Jango smiled at that, and they finally got up and dressed, although Obi-Wan didn’t put his full armour back on, just the armourweave jumpsuit. They spent the remaining time until Boba’s return talking about the years of their separation, the things Obi-Wan had seen and done, and about Boba and Anakin and whether they’d get along. They stayed close together as they talked, touching one another at the slightest provocation - linking hands and leaning into one another’s sides, watching each other and trying not to blink. 

Boba burst into the apartment with an energy level Obi-Wan remembered well from when he’d first met Anakin, babbling a mile a minute in Mando’a about his lessons and his brothers, including one named 99 who had walked him home from his lessons. He stopped short when he saw Obi-Wan, sidling around to Jango and crowding close to his father’s other side. Jango ruffled his adiik’s hair gently. 

“Ibic cuy ner riduur Obi-Wan,” Jango introduced gently. 

“Obi buir?” Boba asked, his little hand fisted tight on Jango’s tunics, dark eyes wary. 

“Meh gar copaani,” Obi-Wan said, not wanting to push himself further into Boba’s life than the child was able to accept - it would be a process, learning to fit themselves into a family.

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din,” Boba said solemnly, and offered his hand. “Ni kyr'tayl gai.”

“Ni kyr'tayl gai, Boba Fett,” Obi-Wan returned just as solemnly. 

It wasn’t the full adoption, but it was acknowledgement of their bond through Jango, who grinned broadly. Boba remained a bit wary, but he did warm up a bit while he and Obi-Wan helped Jango prepare their simple meal - seared fish and roast vegetables over a bed of steamed neral, with a salad made from what must have been a native seaweed. Other than the salad it wasn’t terribly unlike what Obi-Wan and Jango had eaten so long ago in Keldabe. 

Obi-Wan recalled the memory fondly, and he and Jango spent much of the meal reminiscing about the time they had spent living out of the Oyu’baat. When the meal had long finished, and Boba had been put to bed with a few stories of Obi-Wan’s adventures over the past years, Obi-Wan checked in with Anakin again, then regretfully nodded to Jango, who commed Taun We to come escort Obi-Wan back to his guest quarters. Obi-Wan had stayed perhaps overlong already, but he rationalized that they _could_ have been talking for hours. And he _had_ learned a great deal more about the cloning program. 

With a sigh, Obi-Wan buckled on his armour back on, then said goodnight to Jango. As he embraced Jango, he pressed a small disposable comm into his husband’s hand. 

“Par oribru,” Obi-Wan murmured, and felt Jango’s hand tighten around his fingers in silent acknowledgement. “K'oyacyi,” he commanded, and then the door was chiming, and he had to let Taun We lead him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I read some speculation posts on tumblr (which I unfortunately can not find again) regarding the likelihood of Jango having not-human ancestors given that anybody could be adopted into the Mando community and culture, and also how the Kaminoans seem like really bad scientists with regards to only having like, two test run batches, the Alphas and Nulls, and ‘culling’ the clones that don’t meet their somewhat arbitrary standards. If the culling is a common tale used to scare cadets, there had to be significant numbers of clones who didn’t meet ‘standard’ for the Kaminoan given of standard. (Post about the Kaminoans by @fromthedeskoftheminister here)
> 
> In this universe, because Jango did not take the bounty from Tyranus for the purpose of destroying the Jedi, and did not have that formative terrible experience at Galidraan that made Jedi his enemies, and wants to have a family, I think he would be much more invested in the clones as people, rather than an army.
> 
> The chip in Jango is based in large part on the obedience discs seen in _Thor: Ragnarok_ where the disc is embedded and can be used to electroshock someone when they aren’t complying with the orders of the person holding the control device. 
> 
> **Mando’a:**  
>  ad(e) = child(ren)  
> Adiik = a child between the ages of three and thirteen  
> Ad’ika = little one, dim. of child.  
> Aliit ori'shya tal'din = family is more than blood  
> Ibic cuy ner riduur = this is my spouse  
> K'oyacyi = 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*   
> Meh gar copaani = if you want  
> Ner jet’ika = my little Jedi (approx)  
> Ner mesh’la riduur = my beautiful spouse  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai = I know your name  
> Par oribru = for emergency  
> Riduur = spouse   
> Sur’atiin = author’s best attempt at ‘forever drawing’ aka tattoo but specifically one with Mando cultural meaning  
> Taab’echaaj’la = dead (lit. marching far away)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We learn some more about the awfulness of growing up on Kamino this chapter, so warning again for discussions of pseudo-scientific experimentation, murder, and sexual violence.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked quietly into his comm once he’d swept the guest room he’d been given. If the Kaminoans had listening devices, they weren’t a type he had encountered before, or a type his scanners could pick up. Given the paranoia of the Mando’ade, his scanners could pick up a fair bit. His comm was encrypted, and he would just have to hope for the best.

“Ori’vod!” Anakin declared, relief bleeding through in both his tone and their training bond. 

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan reassured. “Have you seen any place to land that looks unmonitored?” Anakin hummed, and in the background Obi-Wan could hear the binary chirping of his Padawan’s astromech. Likely it was offering its opinion - Anakin tended to soup up the droids he used regularly, and they tended to overperform for him as a result. 

“Arthree says there’s an unmonitored hatch not too far from your locator beacon - I’m assuming you’re still in your armour?” 

“I am. If you can find a way to land unseen and get inside unnoticed, I’d like you to take a crack at their servers and so forth, see what they aren’t telling me. Also - the clones - well - like I said, Jango is here, and not exactly by choice. They used him as the genetic source of the clones. He has custody of one who he’s raised as a son, an incentive for good behavior. They had a chip in his - Jango’s - neck, although I’m pretty sure I’ve neutralized it. I just - I know there’s a lot I’m not being told, that Jan likely wasn’t told, and I want as much information as we can get.”

“Osik,” Anakin swore. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. I’ll stall them and learn as much as I can through official channels, but I can tell you already that this whole situation stinks like an overfed Hutt.”

“Ewww, no need for that sort of language,” Anakin quipped. “Arthree’s been running electronic countermeasures since we arrived so I don’t think we’ve been noticed. I’ll make my descent soon. I’ll probably lay low for a bit to see what I can learn about their sensors before I do any investigating, but I’ll either comm you or find you sometime during local nighttime.”

“Noted,” Obi-Wan said, and they signed off. 

Obi-Wan passed the time by reading further on the official information the Prime Minister and Taun We had given him, comparing that to the data Jan had sent. There were numerous discrepancies, and the rumours Jango had passed on diverged even further. Culling of ‘defective’ clones. Obi-Wan shuddered. It would change. It had to. Determination reinvigorating him, Obi-Wan read on, taking notes and forcing himself to let go of his anger each time it threatened to overwhelm him and cloud his judgment. A few hours later, he was nodding off over his ‘pad, doggedly trying to press on.

A curving panel near the ceiling shifted almost silently, and Obi-Wan didn’t look up. He did mentally prepare to defend himself for a moment, before realizing just who was about to infiltrate his quarters. With a smile, he set down his ‘pad and looked up in time to watch Anakin drop down from the ceiling. For such a tall, gangling young man, his Padawan could move with surprising grace. Obi-Wan silently greeted Anakin with Mando handtalk, and the greeting was returned in kind, along with Anakin’s assurance that the space was clean by his sweeps too.

“Any trouble getting inside?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin shook his head. 

“I clamped on the underside of a dome and came in through one of the cleanest maintenance shafts I’ve ever seen,” Anakin said. “Found a server room and accessed their datacore there. If you need to send anything off-planet, we can bounce a signal through Arthree, my transponder is still masked.”

“Anything interesting?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

“Honestly?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan nodded. “Interesting isn’t the right word. These - they’re - ugh,” he expressed with frustrated anger. “Demagolkase,” he finally grit out, imbuing the epithet with the full measure of disgust it deserved. “They have detention levels that would make your skin crawl, and the things they do to the ‘substandard’ and ‘defective’ clones just - ori’vod. This place - these people. I’ve never meant it more when I called someone a monster.” Obi-Wan grimaced. With his background, and knowing the evil of which sentients were capable, Anakin didn’t lightly make such accusations. 

“Tell me,” Obi-Wan said, girding himself.

“About nine years ago they stopped terminating the occasional female clones, and began raising them separately from the boys. Some of the male trainers have custody of female clones. I don’t think I need to go into any more detail - they’re physically about sixteen to eighteen when they leave their dormitories to stay with the trainers, but their education is very rudimentary.” Obi-Wan grimaced, again forcing himself to let go of his rage. 

“They stopped culling the Force sensitive clones after a while too, but they’re kept in what amount to sensory deprivation cells, and routinely subjected to so-called experiments that any other sentient world would recognize as torture. Clones with defects that are easily fixed through surgery are treated and returned to the general population. Those with more exotic problems are treated like lab animals. Those who are gravely injured are kept sedated and used as organ banks. This whole place is awful.” 

“Is there anything about chips?” Obi-Wan asked. “If they had one in Jango, I wouldn’t put it past them to chip the soldiers.” 

“I haven’t seen anything about it yet, but I accessed their fiber network and attached a reader, so it’s transmitting everything to Arthree. I didn’t need to stay and monitor it once it was hooked up and I had everything from the secure server that wasn’t networked to the rest of the system, but that’s a lot of data and I couldn’t stomach learning more after a while,” Anakin said with a grimace. 

“Alright. I’m thinking I’ll send a quiet message tonight to tell the Council what to expect, then make an official call to the Temple tomorrow from their comm center. If they can make it sound like the _Daybreaker_ is coming in an official Jedi capacity, we can get Jango and Boba and maybe some of the clones to the Temple,” Obi-Wan outlined. 

“I don’t like the idea of the Kaminoans being unsupervised,” Anakin said, fidgeting nervously with his Padawan braid.

“I don’t either, but I believe they’ll keep their word if we present our conditions in terminology they understand. And I have a feeling that if we can get them here, there will be quite a few Haat Mando’ade wishing to remain on Kamino to keep an eye on things for Jango,” Obi-Wan said. 

Anakin nodded. He was well aware how loyal the Haat Mando’ade were to Jango - they’d been looking for him for ten years, unwilling to accept he might be dead rather than missing. When they learned Jango was essentially a prisoner, they would be incensed, and more than willing to do his bidding. 

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at the week’s worth of growth on his chin. He looked tired, Anakin thought. Best for them to finish up their planning then, so hopefully Obi-Wan could at least rest his eyes a little. 

“I’m opposed to us becoming Generals,” Obi-Wan said wearily, “but I just might change my mind if it means we have full power over what happens here. We could get all those imprisoned freed, and ensure that the others are treated like the sentient beings they are.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Anakin said. “Want me to go back aloft and come back openly with the _Daybreaker_?”

“Good idea,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, and Anakin beamed briefly, as he always did when praised. 

“Alright. They can use my transponder codes, so the _Daybreaker_ will read as a Jedi vessel. Be careful, ori’vod,” Anakin said. 

“Oya, An’ika,” Obi-Wan returned fondly, and then Anakin was climbing back up into the vent. Obi-Wan helped him slide the panel back into place, and then sent a heavily encrypted text-only message to the Council from his personal comm, boosted through Anakin’s souped-up astromech, outlining his plan to them. He stayed up a few hours more, reading and waiting for a response. He’d sent a basic summation of the new information Anakin had shared with his suggestions, hoping the atrocities committed in the Order’s name would motivate the Council to quick action.

To Obi-Wan’s relief, he soon received a message from Mace, strongly agreeing with his plans, and authorizing him to use whatever means necessary to prohibit any further culling, along with other stopgap measures until they could either take full custody of every clone already formed, from the newest blastocyst to the oldest test batches, or at least install a permanent Jedi presence on Kamino. 

Between worry over Jango, worry over Anakin, and the mass of information he was trying to cram into his head, Obi-Wan didn’t sleep that night. He meditated for about an hour, trying to settle the new knowledge into his memory, and preparing himself for the coming day. He knew that his emotional control would continue to be tested, and he doubted he’d truly rest until he was headed back to Coruscant, hopefully with Jango at his side.

In the morning, Obi-Wan requested a more thorough tour of the facilities, asking questions and letting himself be seen by the training cadets and their trainers. Some of the trainers would know him by his beskar’gam. The others - well, they could likely pick out the Jedi and Haat Mando’ade sigils on his pauldrons. He’d never been shy about his associations. When he felt he’d made enough of a show of his interest and attention, and had officially heard the terms ‘cull’ and ‘terminated,’ he requested use of their comm center to contact the Coruscant Jedi Temple. The Kaminoans agreed easily, and then hovered nearby as he entered his codes. 

“Knight Kenobi,” Master Windu greeted when the Temple’s comm center relayed him through to the Council.

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan returned, and launched into his report on the strength of the army and efficacy of their training, then segued without pause into some of his concerns. He didn’t mention the detention levels, the so-called experiments, the prostitution of the female clones - he didn’t officially know about those particular atrocities. But he made clear that he thought the Kaminoans were wasting money by terminating clones that could still fight, or at least fill support positions in the new army. 

The terminology was cruel, and it turned his stomach, but clearly the Kaminoans cared nothing for the morality of cloning sentient beings. A disgruntled client, on the other hand, might take their business elsewhere if they felt the Kaminoans were being wasteful. Obi-Wan hoped that by speaking of credits and profit, the Kaminoans would care about their bottom line enough to start meeting the basic standards for the care of sentient beings. He would do everything in his power to ensure that Jango’s children were somewhat safer in his absence.

“Jedi Skywalker is en route with the _Daybreaker_ ,” Master Windu said when Obi-Wan finished. “We anticipated your report, and would like to review a contingent of the army here. Bring the genetic source as well.”

“The bounty hunter Jango Fett has a young son, I doubt the boy can be left behind,” Obi-Wan warned, purposely misconstruing the exact relationship between the two. Mace already knew the truth, and it allowed the Kaminoans to view the Jedi as overly sentimental. Anything that contributed to the Jedi being underestimated, Obi-Wan was willing to use to his advantage at this point. 

“Fett is welcome to bring his son,” Mace said. “I look forward to seeing some of these troops in person.” They talked a little bit longer, things they’d already planned out to ensure Obi-Wan could give the necessary orders to the Kaminoans currently responsible for the army. At the moment, ensuring the health and safety of the clones took precedence over arguments about who really had jurisdiction over their welfare - the Jedi as the supposed originators of the order, or the Republic as the funders and planned recipients of the army. When Obi-Wan had lodged all the appropriate complaints, and Mace had given him the orders and authority to enact the most pressing changes, Obi-Wan signed off, and turned to Taun We. The Kaminoan looked the closest to nervous Obi-Wan imagined they could look. 

“My orders are clear,” Obi-Wan said firmly, and eventually he was shown back to the Prime Minister’s office, where he made his demands - that the clones be given the basic list of rights any sentient was due. Obi-Wan was very specific, and very firm. No clone was to be experimented on, culled, euthanized, or terminated. No clone was to be forced into sexual situations, used for ‘spare parts,’ locked in isolation or otherwise terrorized. The list went on.

Within a few hours, the female clones who had been given over to members of the training corps were moved back into the dormitories with their younger sisters, and new dormitories had been opened up for the Force sensitive clones. Obi-Wan took care of moving them personally, opening his shields wide and exuding his calmness, blanketing them in serenity. Those who had been vivisected, their limbs and organs harvested, were moved to palliative care. And that night, for the first time in their memories, every single clone in Tipoca City able to leave their bunk was gathered together in the same space, so Obi-Wan could address them all at once. The rest of the clones, in palliative care and in the other training centers dotted around the planet, watched via holo. 

The members of the training corps lined the walls when the ‘troopers were marched in, and Jango and Boba were next to the dais where Obi-Wan stood. Their relationship would remain a secret for the moment - Obi-Wan didn’t want to give the Kaminoans any chance to question his right to give orders. Better he get Jango and Boba away from Kamino first.

Stepping up, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, then squared his shoulders and addressed the troops, his voice reverberating strong and clear through the massive parade ground. Obi-Wan told them the truth, from a certain point of view. 

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight,” he introduced himself. “A few weeks ago, Jedi Master Jan Dooku came to Kamino following a lead on a missing Jedi, Master Sifo-Dyas. Master Sifo-Dyas negotiated the creation of this army on behalf of the Republic. Due to the time-frame in which Master Sifo-Dyas went missing, your training has not been properly reported to the Jedi Council. Within a week, a cruiser will arrive with more trainers to evaluate your skills. These new trainers will stay here in Tipoca City and visit the other training complexes while assessments are conducted. 

“The High Council would like to meet Jango Fett in person, and review the most senior group of ‘troopers, those known as the Alpha-ARC class. They, along with Boba Fett and Taun We, will accompany us to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. If Kal Skirata is willing to accompany us, he and the Null class under his command are also invited to accompany us to Coruscant. 

“Until further notice, all clones - even the ‘defective,’ no matter the defect - are entitled to the same education and training.” At that pronouncement, a cheer was stifled among the soldiers, and the cloud of tension that had hovered over them dissipated. Obi-Wan smiled slightly before he continued, his own tension easing. 

“While the incoming trainers are not Force-sensitive, I am assured that more Jedi will soon be assigned, and until we depart, I will undertake the assessment and training of Force-sensitive cadets myself,” Obi-Wan continued. “Over the course of the coming days, I will also be meeting with your trainers and the Kaminoans, and reading the information they have recorded over the past years on your training and skills. I will answer your questions to the best of my ability, although I will ask your patience, as I am still learning the full scope of this project, and may not have the information you seek.” 

As Obi-Wan stepped down, he nodded to Jango and wished more than anything that he could go to his husband and their adiik. Instead he looked into the eyes of every trainer who had taken one of Jango’s daughters and promised himself vengeance. It might not be the Jedi way, but in this, he was all Mando’ad.

Obi-Wan made himself very visible until the _Daybreaker_ arrived. For part of that time, he commandeered one of the gymnasiums to train the Force-sensitive clones in the basics of Force use and ethics. He taught them basic meditation techniques, and also taught them the proud history of Mando Force-sensitives, showing them his lightsabers and some basic training exercises. He spent time with Jango and Boba when he could, and thankfully, the _Daybreaker_ arrived before too long. 

Myles and Silas accompanied Anakin off the ship, Anakin in standard Jedi robes without a hint of his usual armour, and Myles and Silas in civilian garb. Obi-Wan blinked at them. He rarely saw Myles or Silas out of armour, and barely knew how to react to them in spacers’ leathers. Obi-Wan greeted Myles and Silas cordially, and Anakin more affectionately. Jango restrained himself from rushing to his friends, his brothers in everything but blood. Thankfully, they didn’t have to maintain the charade for long. 

The entry ramp was barely closed before the Alpha ARCs were being taken to the infirmary. While the Haat Mando’ade might not have a dedicated doctor, they had plenty of battlefield medics and top of the line medical droids who could look the ‘troopers over and make sure the Kaminoans had given them adequate care. 

As soon as they cleared Kamino’s gravity well, the _Daybreaker_ punched into hyperspace, and Obi-Wan turned to Taun We, who had accompanied Jango, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Myles and Silas to the bridge. The Kaminoan blinked, large dark eyes surveying the ring of tense Mando’ade ringing them. 

“When you reach Coruscant, you will cooperate with the Jedi Council, telling us everything we need to know about this army, its formation, and the training to which the soldiers have been subjected,” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Is that not my purpose in accompanying you?” Taun We asked. Obi-Wan grit his teeth. Clearly human body-language wasn’t something the Kaminoan understood. “My expertise on the product-” Taun We began.

“Clones. They’re people,” Jango cut in. “They’re _my children_.” Taun We blinked again. 

“Why don’t we find you some quarters,” Obi-Wan said to Taun We. 

“We prepared guest quarters near medical for them,” Silas advised, and Obi-Wan nodded, leading Taun We away. 

“I would advise you begin thinking of the clones as the sentient beings they are, rather than _product_. Every being on this ship is loyal without question to Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan said as they walked down the corridor. “And Jango isn’t exactly pleased to have been held hostage for the past decade.” 

Taun We dipped their head, and they walked in silence to the area Silas had mentioned. The Kaminoan, Obi-Wan thought, was lucky Jango hadn’t just decided to deck them on sheer principle. As sole representative of their race on the _Daybreaker_ , Taun We would likely be facing more than a little hostility.

“If you want to be helpful, start typing up everything you know about the army,” Obi-Wan suggested, pointing at the datapad on the spartan room’s bed. “The ship’s intercom will announce meal times.” Taun We looked around, but didn’t argue. Obi-Wan withdrew, letting the door slide closed behind him. He debated a moment, then texted Jango:

_Where are you?_

_Medbay_ Jango texted back, and Obi-Wan went to meet him there. Jango was sitting on a bed, a bacta bandage on his neck showing he’d already had his chip cut out. Boba sat at Jango’s side, a med droid scanning him and asking questions. Obi-Wan crossed to Jango, who looked up and smiled as Obi-Wan approached. 

“Ner riduur,” Obi-Wan greeted, nudging his helmet against Jango’s head.

“Obi-Wan,” Jango returned, pressing their heads together.

The ‘troopers were already being scanned to ensure the Kaminoans had kept them in perfect health, and not put chips in them. Boba was thankfully free, but every one of the other clones scanned so far had chips. And unlike Jango’s, the clones’ weren’t in an easily accessible place. Theirs were inside their skulls. Jedi Healers, Obi-Wan promised, would remove them when they reached Coruscant. They would be free. 

Once everyone had cleared medical, Obi-Wan made proper introductions and gave a painfully honest briefing to the ARC troopers. The Jedi Council had never authorized the purchase or formation of the army. Jango had been held against his will, Boba a hostage for Jango’s continued good behavior for the duration. Obi-Wan was Jango’s husband as well as a Jedi, and likely there were already more Jedi on the way to Kamino to look after things there. 

The troopers took the news surprisingly well. Obi-Wan imagined they took after their progenitor to a degree, and Jango was all but unflappable. Once everything was settled though, the Haat Mando’ade proceeded to break out the tihaar and gal and welcome Jango home, and welcome the ‘troopers to the clan. They’d need names, Silas declared when he was a few drinks in, with the others agreeing loudly. Obi-Wan smiled, shook his head, and went to nestle against Jango’s side. 

Obi-Wan and Jango curled together in a single bunk that night, pressed as tight as possible, breathing one another in. Boba and Anakin shared a nearby bunkroom, likely staying up most of the night asking one another obnoxious questions about their respective guardians. Despite that Obi-Wan barely slept, too desperate to listen to Jango’s heart beating beneath his ear, to feel the warmth of Jango’s skin against his, come morning Obi-Wan was happier than he’d been in years. He had his riduur with him again.

They kissed deep and slow upon waking, and Jango gently pinned Obi-Wan to the bunk. Obi-Wan smiled indulgently up at Jango, shifting to accommodate his partner’s bulk. Jango grinned ferally at that, grinding their hips together. Obi-Wan moaned, wrapping a leg around Jango’s waist to keep him close, to urge him on. 

“Need you,” Jango rasped, biting at Obi-Wan’s neck. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “How?”

“Don’t have the patience for prep,” Jango growled, pushing at his shorts. They fumbled out of their already minimal clothing and rutted together. Obi-Wan groaned eagerly as Jango’s hand fisted around both their cocks. He reached down too, tangling their fingers together. They pulled in concert, both of them leaking copiously, eager for completion. Soft grunts and the slap of skin filled the air, and it didn’t take long for them to come, one after the other, calling each other’s names as they splattered their come across Obi-Wan’s belly. “Missed you,” Jango murmured, nuzzling into Obi-Wan. 

“Mmm,” Obi-Wan agreed, shifting so they could cuddle together a bit better, after grabbing a corner of the sheets and wiping away the worst of their mess. They clung a little longer, kissing and touching, staring into one another’s eyes, still unable to fully believe they’d finally been reunited. When they finally emerged and went to the mess, those present gave a razzing cheer. Jango happily flipped up the Mando hand sign that meant - more or less - fuck you. Obi-Wan couldn’t stop smiling, leaning into Jango’s space and holding his hand. Anakin just rolled his eyes at his ori’vod’s sappiness. 

At nineteen, Anakin was loath to admit he somewhat envied his mentor’s romantic relationship, deep and steady, sustaining even through the long years of separation. Many other Padawans his age were happily jumping bed to bed, learning what types of pleasure they enjoyed, or whether they wanted a sexual relationship at all. Anakin waffled on that matter. If it was the right person, he thought, someone who inspired him to be the best Jedi - the best Mando’ad - the best _person_ he could be. And someone who, like Jango, could understand that Anakin would often have to put duty first. And if they were willing to adopt Mando cultural traditions - even better. 

“Sleep well ori’vod?” Anakin asked cheekily. Obi-Wan just narrowed his eyes, and Anakin grinned.

“An’ika, Jango, Jango, Anakin,” Obi-Wan introduced instead of indulging his beloved brat of a Padawan. Anakin rose from the table and offered his hand. Jango gripped Anakin’s forearm in the Mando fashion, smiling slightly up at the tall young man. He could easily see the mix of Jedi and Mando influences in Obi-Wan’s Padawan. Anakin’s hair was cropped short, and he didn’t bother with a nerf-tail, the sides and back of his head shaved close to the skin save the long learner’s braid behind his ear. He wore leather tabards in the Jedi style over an armourweave flightsuit, and Mando style gauntlets and boots.

“Anakin,” Jango greeted with a slight smile. “You’re still about ten in my memory, but I’ll catch up,” he warned, and Anakin blinked. 

“You told him about me?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan in surprise. He hadn’t even been Obi-Wan’s Padawan when Jango went missing.

“Of course I did,” Obi-Wan said. “Even before I decided to take you as my Padawan, you were very dear to me, An’ika.” Anakin flushed with delight at that, and leaned down to hug his ori’vod. 

“Flatterer,” Anakin grumped, trying to hide how touched he was. 

“Only the truth,” Obi-Wan argued, patting Anakin’s encircling arms. “Now sit and eat. You’re still growing.” 

Anakin huffed but sat and continued to put away his prodigious meal. Boba soon joined them, pressing against Jango’s side and stealing food off his buir’s plate. It was clear Boba was unused to not being the center of Jango’s attention. 

Obi-Wan mentally promised he’d do his best to be helpful, to not monopolize Jango. It would be difficult enough with the rest of the clan clamouring for their Mand’alor’s attention. He didn’t want to make things any more difficult for Boba. Besides, it wasn’t as though there wasn’t more than enough to do.

Obi-Wan didn’t move out of Jango’s bunk, nothing that drastic. And Boba seemed okay with that, he had his own berth, and was used to sleeping in a separate room from his buir. So nights Obi-Wan and Jango had to themselves, and they took full advantage of that, making up for lost time. The second night aboard, Jango pulled Obi-Wan down on top of him, kissing him deeply. Obi-Wan reciprocated happily, only pulling away when Jango shifted beneath him to spread his legs.

“Jango?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Need you,” Jango husked, nodding in encouragement. Obi-Wan groaned. Jango didn’t often offer to receive penetration, and Obi-Wan usually preferred that role regardless. But the rarity of the offer made Obi-Wan harden almost instantly. He squeezed his cock with a groan, then shifted to kneel between Jango’s spread legs to finger him open. Jango grunted as Obi-Wan penetrated him; even a finger was more than he’d had in years.

“You sure this is what you want?” Obi-Wan asked, gently stroking Jango’s rim, easing him open slowly. 

“Yes,” Jango all but growled. “Need you. Need to feel you.” Obi-Wan groaned, then leaned down to kiss Jango thoroughly. He pulled away after a bit, kissing down Jango’s front to lick up his cock. 

“Let me suck you first at least, get you a bit more relaxed?” Obi-Wan offered, breath ghosting hot and moist over Jango’s erection.

“Like I’d ever say no to that mouth of yours,” Jango replied with a smile, reaching down to card his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, still worn in the Mando style, shaved on the sides and back, but long enough over the top to guide his head like this. 

Obi-Wan grinned in response, and set about relearning his way around Jango’s thick cock. He licked and sucked, working his way up to deepthroating as he slid in a second finger and began to stretch Jango wider. It had been just as long for him after all. Despite that Obi-Wan was out of practice, it didn’t take very long for Jango to come. They were both on the edge already, and Obi-Wan’s mouth was as hot and wet and talented as Jango remembered. He’d been fantasizing about that mouth for nearly ten years, and reality blew his imaginings away.

Jango came with a shout, and Obi-Wan swallowed him down eagerly, easing back a bit as Jango relaxed with his release. When Jango had gone limp in the aftermath, Obi-Wan slid another finger in, carefully stretching Jango’s rim. Jango groaned at the deeper, wider penetration. He was stretched and relaxed enough by then that Obi-Wan’s clever fingers felt good stroking into him. 

“One more finger, you’re almost ready,” Obi-Wan offered breathlessly. He was barely holding himself in check, desperate to be joined with Jango, especially after feeling the wash of Jango’s pleasure when he orgasmed. Jango grunted, nodding and consciously trying to relax, to make it easier. Despite that he’d already come, he too wanted the fulfillment of union with his mate. Obi-Wan’s fourth finger slipped in, and Jango groaned again, pulling his knees up to his chest. Obi-Wan kissed the inside of Jango’s calf, then eased his fingers free and replaced them with his aching erection. 

“Osik,” Jango breathed, and Obi-Wan choked out a strangled laugh, sinking in to the hilt with a single long, smooth thrust. 

“Not gonna last long,” Obi-Wan warned. He leaned in, resting his forehead on Jango’s. “So good, ner cyare, ner riduur.”

“Missed you,” Jango murmured. He shifted, clasping his hand around the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. Tilting his chin, Jango slotted their mouths together, kissing deep and wet. “Missed you so much Ob’ika. I’m not leaving your side again.” Obi-Wan cracked a broken smile at that, and kissed Jango, slowly beginning to rock his hips. It didn’t take long before Obi-Wan was panting out ragged, keening breaths, trying to last just a little longer. 

“Come,” Jango growled, squeezing Obi-Wan’s nape, and with a choked cry, Obi-Wan obeyed, his hips stuttering as he toppled over the edge. He all but collapsed onto Jango, grinding close as he rode out his orgasm. Jango grinned, pulling Obi-Wan down into another kiss. 

“Force,” Obi-Wan gasped out after a few panting breaths, gently disengaging and cuddling against Jango’s side as his heart rate began to slow a bit. Jango chuckled softly, shifting to embrace Obi-Wan and kissing him softly as he shuddered through the aftershocks. After a few moments Obi-Wan eased from the bed to grab a cloth and wipe them both down. As soon as the worst of the mess was dealt with, he curled back against Jango. 

“I know it was said in the middle of sex, but I’m serious,” Jango warned after a bit more cuddling. He reached up, ruffling his fingers through Obi-Wan’s short beard. “I’ll do whatever I can to stay with you, through whatever we come up against. If that means I only take Republic contracts - well, honestly I’m not sure how that will work. But I want to try. I want to be at your side.” 

“Mhi solus tome,” Obi-Wan husked, and Jango nodded firmly. 

“Mhi solus tome,” Jango echoed, nuzzling their noses together, then sliding their mouths into a breathy kiss. “Ner riduur.”

“Gar riduur,” Obi-Wan affirmed happily, and they dozed off wound around one another, not letting go even in sleep. They had a later than usual first-meal come morning, and a bit more teasing from the Mando’ade and Anakin alike. Both Obi-Wan and Jango took the teasing in good spirits. They were at that state of happiness where ribbing just rolled off them.

The Alpha-ARCs watched everything carefully for the week of transit to Coruscant. They’d never been around so many natural-borns before, and frequently looked to Jango for direction. Obi-Wan did his best to make himself available to them as well, although he was wary of saying anything that sounded too much like an order. They clearly held Jedi in high regard, and while Jango assured him these clones were more independent-minded than most, Obi-Wan didn’t want to exert undue influence on them if it wasn’t necessary. 

Obi-Wan could vaguely understand the Kaminoans’ reasoning for making the cloned soldiers loyal and devoted, but he worried deeply about the actual practice. What if they were given an illogical or strategically unsound order by a Jedi? Would they knowingly follow an impractical battleplan even unto death? The prospect turned his stomach. He would find a way to make things better, Obi-Wan promised himself. They deserved that and so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Adiik = a child between 3 and 13 years of age  
> Buir = parent  
> Cyare = beloved, sweetheart  
> Demagolkase = plural, ones who commit atrocities and war crimes  
> Gal = ale, alcohol, booze  
> ‘ika = little, diminutive suffix, used affectionately and for children   
> Mhi solus tome = we are one together  
> (ner / gar) riduur = (my / your) husband  
> Ori’vod = big brother  
> Osik = shit   
> Tihaar = alcoholic drink - strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie


	13. Chapter 13

Given the identities of their passengers, the _Daybreaker_ was granted priority landing clearance when they reached Coruscant. Not only that, they were routed straight to the Temple, allowed to set down on the massive ziggurat itself. Obi-Wan imagined the last time a Mando ship had been that close to the Temple, there had been an impressive exchange of fire, given it was probably during the assaults of the long ago Crusaders.

All the Haat Mando’ade aboard - Obi-Wan included - donned their armour for arrival. Anakin, one of the few without full beskar’gam, made due with his usual mix of Jedi synthleather tabards over Mando flightsuit, with durasteel armoured boots and gauntlets. During transit the Mando had worked feverishly to refurbish the beskar’gam the Kaminoans had withheld from Jango for so many long years. Jango had received his armour from his husband’s hands, and Obi-Wan had almost reverently dressed his Mand’alor.

They disembarked with Jango at the head of the column of a hundred Alpha ARCs, with Boba at one side and Obi-Wan in full beskar’gam at the other. Behind the ARCs, the Haat Mando’ade had formed up a column with Silas as their interim leader and Anakin among their number. Chancellor Fang Zar, former Senator of Sern Prime, met them with a horde of attaches and hangers-on surrounding him. Zar had succeeded Bail Antilles, who had served two terms after Chancellor Valorum, and then retired from both the Chancellery and the Senate. The new Chancellor had been a supporter of Antilles’ policies, although the worsening conflicts had made for a troubled start to his government. 

Mace Windu and Yoda stood among the politicians as the chief representatives of the Order, but numerous other Jedi crowded the plaza. Obi-Wan recognized quite a few - the Battlemaster Cin Drallig, his friend Quinlan Vos, even the Chief Archivist Jocasta Nu. Ranks of Temple guards stood at the ready, Force-pikes glowing golden. 

Bland political greetings were made on all sides, with much bowing on Obi-Wan’s part, and none on Jango’s. Obi-Wan had expected nothing less, although it was clear that Chancellor Zar was trying very hard not to show his amusement. An older human male, he was a bit shorter than Obi-Wan, and dressed in the traditional draping garb of his homeworld. In truth, Obi-Wan was a bit amazed the Chancellor had come all the way to the ziggurat to greet them. Knowledge of the clone army was causing fervid debate in the Senate, and Zar had very little control over the resulting furore. Perhaps, Obi-Wan thought somewhat uncharitably, the Chancellor just wanted to get away from his desk for a bit.

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan greeted when he was introduced. 

“You do keep things interesting, Knight Kenobi,” Zar said, smile breaking through beneath his bushy grey moustache. 

“Not my intent, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, glad his buy’ce hid the flush that raced to his cheeks. Zar laughed at that, then turned to Jango. 

“Mandalore,” Zar greeted, offering his hand. Jango grasped Zar’s forearm in the Mando fashion, a little surprised to be addressed by title. “You need to speak to your people soon,” Zar warned. 

Jango dipped his head silently. While he hadn’t yet looked at the news out of the Mandalorian sector, he imagined it was rather chaotic given the impending war and his own sudden reappearance. He’d been happy to leave the bureaucracy and administration to Duchess Kryze over the years, but if the Republic was going to war, and his riduur and ad’ike were the army, he’d readily assume the traditional role of warlord and take every Mando’ad willing to follow orders at his back. His people were warriors of renown, and he wouldn’t keep them from the fight so long as they toed the line with regards to certain standards of behavior - he didn’t want any Death Watch fly-by-nights out there massacring civilians just for the fun of it.

After some flowery words about freedom and democracy, and the Republic’s fight against tyranny for the holo-journalists covering the arrival of the clones, the Chancellor departed back to the Senate dome with some of his aides and attendants. He left a gaggle of Senators in his wake. They, Obi-Wan presumed, would be insinuating themselves into the Jedi review of the troops. Obi-Wan didn’t like it, especially when he saw the Senator from Naboo, Palpatine, in the bunch.

Palpatine had always inexplicably made Obi-Wan’s eye twitch, and it didn’t help that he’d been thoroughly useless during the blockade crisis while his people were starving and dying in Trade Federation camps. Palpatine had made some pretty speeches, but had been absolutely no help. He’d tried a run for Chancellor when Valorum’s term ended, campaigning on the sympathy garnered by the blockade, but had been soundly defeated by Bail Antilles of Alderaan. It was a wonder, Obi-Wan thought, that Palpatine was still serving Naboo in the Senate; he would have thought Queen Amidala - or her successor Jamillia - would have recalled him by now. Perhaps Palpatine did just well enough not to warrant the fuss of selecting or electing a new Senator.

Given the number of troopers, and the accompaniment of the Senators, Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly surprised when Mace Windu invited the politicians and holo-journalists to join the Jedi in reviewing the skills of the troopers in one of the larger gymnasiums usually only used for setting up obstacle courses or sparring tournaments. The politicians and reporters flocked to pepper Mace with questions as he led them inside with a last nod at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan dipped his head in silent understanding - he would lead the clone and Mando contingent to the correct arena inside the Temple. 

Obi-Wan’s hands flashed, relaying the plan to Jango. Jango nodded, then acted as Drill Instructor for the clones, firmly calling out cadence to set the ‘troopers in motion. Obi-Wan had only the barest hint of warning - a faint feeling of impending mischief - and then Jango was singing out in Mando’a. _Vod’e An_ , an ancient Mando warchant. Obi-Wan grinned broadly inside his buy’ce, and his smile only grew when he heard how Jango had changed the lyrics for his ad’ike.

_Kote!_ \- the ‘troopers sang out in unison - Glory.   
_Kandosii sa ka'rta, Vode an._ \- One indomitable heart, brothers all.  
 _Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an._ \- The wrath of Coruscant, brothers all.  
 _Bal kote, darasuum kote,_ \- and glory, eternal glory  
 _Jorso'ran kando a tome._ \- We shall bear its weight together.   
_Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an._ \- Forged like the saber in the fires of death, brothers all.

When the clones had finished their version of _Vod’e An_ , Myles sang out, and the Haat Mando’ade gave full throat to their own marching song. A new verse had been added since Obi-Wan had heard them all sing together, memorializing Jango’s vengeance against Montross for the death of Jaster Mereel. His grin, by that point, was stretching his cheeks so wide it was almost painful. He could feel the surprise and then smug pride rolling off Jango at his side. 

If the politicians walking ahead of them had opinions on the display, they wisely kept their feelings to themselves. Obi-Wan led their guests into the Temple, nodding in greeting to the Temple Guards as they passed. The Guards, as usual, remained still as statues. 

The columns of troops bunched in a bit closer together as they entered the Temple, although not much. The corridors on the upper levels of the ziggurat were broad and high ceilinged, and the ‘troopers could march five abreast in tight formation, leaving space between them and the wall for other foot traffic. Obi-Wan led the way, finally stopping when they were lined up in one of the massive gymnasiums with arena-style seating. 

Between the Alpha class clones and the Haat Mando’ade, there were nearly four hundred armoured warriors standing at parade rest. In the stands before them sat the entire Jedi High Council, plus numerous other respected Masters. 

“For the demo,” Jango said over the private channel between himself and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan made a quiet noise of assent. “I’ve kept in shape as I can, I want a free spar with you and me, then you and one of the Alphas. I know I can’t take you in this condition. I don’t know if the boys can.”

“I’ll make them earn it if they put me down,” Obi-Wan promised, and Jango chuckled softly. His reputation as a bounty hunter able to go toe to toe with a Force-sensitive was likely about to get a drubbing, but he’d do his best to take his husband down a peg or two. 

“Jetiise,” Jango addressed, voice loud and firm through the vocoder. “You know I have stood at the side of my spouse Obi-Wan Kenobi when I am able, and at his side have fought the Sith, and hunted them on my own. For first demonstration, Obi-Wan has agreed to open spar with me, my blasters set to stun, his blades on training strength. I freely admit I’m out of practice at Jedi tricks. But my skill will show a baseline to which you can compare the skills of these commandos.”

Mace Windu, the Master of the Order, nodded. Obi-Wan and Jango strode forward, changing their weapons’ settings to non-lethal. For a long moment, they stood still and silent across from one another, and the demonstration began. Despite his claims of being out of shape, Jango was still remarkably fit and skilled. Unfortunately for him, Obi-Wan had been deployed to just about every hot spot in the galaxy over the past few years, and his skills had improved exponentially since the last time they’d sparred for anything other than exercise. They’d worked out together a couple times on the flight from Kamino, but not at their highest intensity. Jango lasted longer against Obi-Wan than many could, but he still ended up on his back, Obi-Wan’s bright blade pressed up under his chin. 

“You do look good like this,” Obi-Wan teased over their in-helmet comm. Jango growled softly, and Obi-Wan laughed, rising and offering Jango his hand. 

“Just for that I’m going to keep sending the boys at you until they put you on your shebs,” Jango huffed, accepting the hand up. Obi-Wan raised one of his shoulders minutely, then stepped back into the center of the mats. 

“Next,” Obi-Wan called confidently, stepping back into the Soresu ready position, his primary blade raised next to his cheek, the Darksaber held in guard across his front. 

“Alpha-17,” Jango called, and one of the clones broke from their ranks. Like all the Alpha ARC’s, he had been trained extensively by Jango, so it was no surprise when Alpha-17 assumed the same ready position Jango used before engaging with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan dodged the first few shots, mentally cataloguing motions and habits. 

Alpha-17 didn’t last quite as long as Jango. The Mand’alor called another of the cadre forward when Obi-Wan disarmed Alpha-17. It wasn’t until the seventh Alpha ARC that Obi-Wan began to tire noticeably. The tenth finally got the opening needed to put Obi-Wan flat on his back, and the other ARCs immediately broke into an enthusiastic cheer. 

“Jate bora,” Obi-Wan panted out. 

“Vor’e,” the ARC said, and stood, then hauled Obi-Wan to his feet. 

“The Haat Mando’ade have always been renowned not only for our ability to fight, but our ability to fight _together_ ,” Jango said in that strong, parade ground cadence. “I have done my best to teach that cohesiveness to the Alpha ARCs.” He turned, and thumped his fist against his chest plate three times. The ARCS straightened to attention, then began a synchronized marching and weapons-handling demonstration of uncanny precision. It didn’t have the same heart-shuddering vigour of a Mando akaan’redal, but it definitely proved that the men could move in unison, and it was awe-inspiring to witness.

There was no cadence to guide the ‘troopers movements, only the soft click of their plastoid armour shifting as they moved, the muffled thump of a hundred boots striking the floor in unison. Their long blaster rifles twirled and shifted, were tossed from man to man and in high arches from one hand to another. They stilled to perfect attention at a heartbeat, unmoving as statues. Obi-Wan’s heart ached, and the entire room seemed to hold their breath. 

“I cannot vouch for the other troops, I have not trained them nor seen them in action. But if they are half the soldiers this class is, they will be warriors worthy of my clan,” Jango said confidently, breaking the fragile silence. “And even if they are not as skilled, they are my children, despite that I have only been allowed to be parent to one.” He rested his hand on Boba’s shoulder, and the boy straightened under the attention of their audience. 

“Masters, the true skill of these soldiers is impossible to demonstrate in a single showing,” Obi-Wan said, stepping forward to stand at Jango’s side. “I would request that they are screened by our healers to ensure the scientists of Kamino have given them the best possible care, and then further demonstrations can be made once they have rested. As you see, one of the scientists of Kamino has accompanied us here at your request. I am sure there is much more that they can tell us about this army.” The Masters muttered among themselves, but conceded. Soon the Alpha ARCs were trailing Obi-Wan and Jango down into the Halls of Healing. 

“Bringing me trouble as usual?” Obi-Wan’s old friend Bant asked, coming up to greet them. A Mon Calamari, she exuded calm and warmth in her aura, a skill she’d developed in her training as a healer. 

“Yup,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Need everyone checked out, and pay close attention to their heads. We got readings that indicated there are chips in there, but the scanners on the _Daybreaker_ aren’t as good as the ones here. Also, we removed a chip from Jango, so we should get that looked at too, make sure he’s healing properly.” 

“How thorough of a checkup do you want?” Bant asked Jango, and he cocked his head, thinking. 

“A very thorough checkup,” Jango decided. “Only docs to see me in the past ten years have been Kaminoan, and you’ll forgive me if I don’t quite trust their motives.”

“Understandable,” Bant agreed with a nod. “Follow me, we’ve put out an all hands call, so hopefully we’ll get through this fairly quickly.” Jango nodded, steering Boba along with him. Obi-Wan remained with them as long as he could, but Jango was still waiting while Boba had his check-up when the Council called Obi-Wan up to their chambers for debriefing. Jango waved Obi-Wan off, and when Obi-Wan had ascended the spire, Anakin was already waiting in the antechamber, Taun We with him. Anakin’s shoulders rode high with tension. 

“Ori’vod,” Anakin greeted.

“Udesii An’ika,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up to rest his hand comfortingly on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised in Basic, and Anakin let his shoulders relax slightly. They both knew that wasn’t really a promise Obi-Wan could make, but Anakin had been trusting Obi-Wan long enough - and having that trust rewarded - that it was second nature.

The door soon opened, allowing the two Jedi and their Kaminoan guest to enter the Council chambers. The entire High Council, and no few members of the other Councils were present. They too were more than a little perturbed at what Obi-Wan had found on Kamino, and not a little displeased that the reputation of the Jedi was being linked with kidnapping and full-sentient cloning. Both acts were not only held as immoral across most of the galaxy, but were also illegal in the Republic.

Bowing to the Council, Obi-Wan shared his tale from the beginning, summarizing the information Jan had sent before his death, and highlighting the discrepancies and ellisions. Anakin filled in the things he had learned from the secure, un-networked server, and then Obi-Wan picked back up with the things he had seen, the hundreds of thousands of versions of his husband’s face but years too young, the tubes upon tubes of embryos and infants and toddlers, the clones only decanted when they were the equivalent of about two Standard years old, capable of walking and speech and basic motor skills. 

“Is this an accurate assessment?” Mace asked Taun We, and the Kaminoan dipped their head.

“It is what Knight Kenobi was shown,” Taun We said, which didn’t quite answer the question. The muscle of Mace’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. 

“The Jedi Order and the Republic Senate will both need a full accounting of the initial trials, cloning procedures, training practices, and nutritional and medical information on this army,” Mace said. “Proprietary information or not, you will ensure we know everything there is to know about the operation that resulted in this army. Not what you think we need to know. Everything. No matter how trivial. And you can start with the chips in the soldiers’ heads.” 

Taun We hesitated, then nodded. Mace summoned two Temple Guards. The Council waited in silence until the masked sentinels appeared.

“Escort our guest to the prepared visitor suite,” Mace directed the guards. “No communications in or out until we know everything. Ensure they have enough data for a full accounting.” The guards bowed, and Taun We was soon escorted away.

With the Kaminoan gone, the Council began asking Obi-Wan for more details on all he had seen and heard on Kamino. They spoke for nearly an hour before the doors opened again, admitting Jango in his beskar’gam, helmet carried at his hip to keep from aggravating the bacta patch he still wore on the side of his neck where they’d cut out the control chip.

“I’ve been doing a lot of digging since leaving Kamino,” Jango said by way of a start. The Councilors shifted to stare in slight disbelief at his audacity at interrupting their meeting without invitation. Obi-Wan bit back a smile. His riduur had a habit of getting people to underestimate his intelligence - they saw armour and thought Jango’s blasters and missiles were where he was most dangerous.

“The client who betrayed me on Kohlma was a Muun. I’ve tentatively identified him as Hego Damask the Second, part of the Banking Clan. I’ve even more tentatively identified him as the darjetii - the Sith - that fled Naboo just after we broke the Trade Federation’s blockade. And if he had a single skinny finger to do with the cloning of that army, you better find him, and find out what he knows, fast. 

“Whoever commissioned that army did so with the intent for the ‘troopers to be grown and trained now, just as the Separatist crisis is building toward war. They arranged for my abduction and long-term captivity, complete with a chip to keep me docile and obedient, and a clone to raise as my son as further insurance. They arranged for chips to be placed in every soldier of this exceptionally convenient army, and I haven’t the first fucking clue what those chips they put in my verd’ike do. I may be seeing patterns where none exist, but I don’t believe so.” 

Obi-Wan nearly rolled his eyes as the Council began whispering furiously among themselves. Jango had certainly set the tooka among the porgs with that bit of supposition. Glancing over, Obi-Wan could see the smugness in the line of Jango’s spine, the cock of his hips. _Mir’sheb_ , Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think affectionately.

“No matter their origin, their original purpose, or the will of the Senate, the clones are a Jedi matter,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “They did not ask to be brought into existence in this manner, but they are here now, living and breathing and ready to fight on the orders of a Jedi, in a war we’ve been trying to prevent for the past decade. They have been raised with the expectation that they would be led into battle by Jedi Generals. 

“Our first task is to ensure that they have all the rights afforded to naturally born sentients. Right now, war seems easy for the Senate; they have a ready made army at their disposal, already bought and paid for. They have control over the assignment of Jedi by our own agreement. But those troopers are sentient beings; born and bred for this fight perhaps, but more than worthy of full citizenship rights, and moreover our respect.” Obi-Wan paused, looking around the room. 

“Councillors,” Obi-Wan continued. “I have been to war before, perhaps even at greater frequency than many of my compatriots in the Order. But those planetary conflicts will look like minor skirmishes in what is to come if the Separatists have their way. Their armies are not sentient, but droids produced by the millions. I know no Jedi wants a part of war, never mind hostilities that will see battles fought across the Republic. I want no part of this either. It is not our role to lead armies into battle, and it seems to me that this conflict has been carefully built up until there seems little choice but war on the galactic scale.”

“You think the Sith has manipulated us into this,” Oppo Rancsis said somewhat accusingly. He was not one of Obi-Wan’s fans, and usually seemed of the opinion that Obi-Wan and Anakin created trouble for the sheer enjoyment of it. 

“I think no Jedi worth the title would commission an army of clones, and then kidnap a man as the foundation of that army,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I think that if the Mand’alor was contracted into this against his will by a being he believes to be Hego Damask, that is something worthy of investigation. While I will not argue against the accusation that my personal biases weight my judgement, I do not believe the Mand’alor would lie to me, or to the Order, about something of that importance.

“I know that the cloners on Kamino have been unethical at best in their creation of this army. Clones were being murdered for easily operable deformities, for being female or Force-sensitive or not mainline human in appearance. I think this army is made up of more sentient rights violations than can be enumerated, wrapped up in a bow and delivered to our doorstep at an impossibly convenient time. So yes, I think the Sith has a finger - at least a finger - in this somewhere, although I can’t claim to know their motives or methods.”

“We’ve been chasing the Sith for ten years, do you suddenly doubt we know their work?” Anakin piped up in support. Obi-Wan turned slightly and sent his Padawan a quelling look through his visor. Obi-Wan appreciated the support, although Anakin might apply a little more tact. Anakin, understanding the scolding even through armour, just gave him a cheeky head-tilt in return.

“The Chancellor, I believe, would be more than happy to dump all of this in our laps,” Adi Gallia said. Only the fact that he knew her fairly well allowed Obi-Wan to see the irritation that turned down the corners of her mouth and tightened the fine skin around her luminous blue eyes. 

“Your people are not Generals; you are not trained for war,” Jango said firmly. 

“And yet I see few other options that would shield your sons from those who would grind them down like grist in a mill for a profitable war,” Adi said. For a moment, Jango just cocked his head, and Obi-Wan knew that inside his helmet, Jango was looking at Adi like she was nuts. 

“If you think I’m not rallying the Mando’ade and hunting down the hut’uun that imprisoned me for ten years and held my ad’ike hostage for my good behavior-” Jango said, shaking his head, _\- you should think again_ went unsaid. “Every hot-blooded Mando’ad from here to Wild Space will follow my banner for the chance to blow up some droids and dismantle the Corporate Sector. Pfassk, some of them will sign up just to see if I’m really who I say I am.” 

“And those who ascribe to the principles of plunder?” Mace Windu asked from behind his steepled fingers. 

“Munit tome’tayl, skotah iisa,” Jango said, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help his grin. Mace glanced at Obi-Wan, not sure he really wanted to know. 

“Long memory, short fuse,” Obi-Wan translated. While originally a rather judgmental appraisal of the Mando’ade by outsiders, they’d long ago reclaimed that stereotype and wore it with pride. 

“Death Watch and those who ascribe to their philosophies aren’t welcome,” Jango said plainly. “I doubt many of their ilk would follow me - I doubt I left many of them alive. But if a Mando’ad operating under my orders acted outside the tenets of the Supercommando Codex, they would be met with the justice of the Haat Mando’ade.”

“I really wish your life was less interesting Obi-Wan,” Mace sighed, then turned back to Jango. “I imagine you’re set on hunting down this potential Sith with or without Republic assistance or authority?”

“Correct,” Jango said. “I was hunting him before, I see no reason to stop now that I’m free to take up arms again. It would be easier - for me and the army - if we worked together. I may not have trained all the cadets, but they’re my sons. I want to protect them in any way I can. If the only way I can do that is hunting the Sith, that’s what I’ll do. But I think I can offer a lot more than that. I know how to lead Mando’ade in battle, and despite not being raised with the Resol’nare, they are Mando’ade.”

“And if the Senate was willing to hire you?” Mace asked. “To have you lead this army against the Separatists, who may or may not be the Sith you’re hunting? What would you demand?” Somehow despite the Mand’alor wearing a helmet, Mace was certain Jango was smiling wide and toothy. 

“Full Republic and Mando citizenship for my children, each and every one, whether or not they fight in this war. Fuel for any Mando ships rallying to my banner for the duration of the war. Arms and armour. Living wages at Republic rates. And the authority to fight this war as I decide, rather than as the Senate demands,” Jango listed off readily, and Obi-Wan knew that would only be the beginning. Jango was still the leader of his people, despite his years of forced exile, and Obi-Wan knew that as Jango had promised, Mando’ade would come out of the woodwork for the chance to follow their Mand’alor into battle.

“I don’t know that I can promise that, any of that,” Mace said wearily. 

“No, but if the Chancellor doesn’t want to run the war himself, he can,” Jango said. For the first time since they’d walked into the Council’s Chambers, Mace’s shoulders lowered just a hair. Obi-Wan didn’t envy Mace the stress he had to be under. 

“That may be more than the Senate is willing to pay,” Mace warned. “While we have resisted so far, we cannot outright refuse to lead the army if that is the Chancellor’s order.”

“I know your history well enough to remember that the Jedi renounced armour and military ranks,” Jango said. “Does the Chancellor?” 

At that, Mace smiled, settling back slightly in his seat. The same legislation that had bound the Jedi to obey the Senate and Chancellor _had_ stripped the Jedi of their military might. A thousand years had passed, but those laws still stood - and if the Chancellor wanted the Jedi to take up military titles once more, what was to say they should not also re-form their navy and starfighter corps alongside the army they would be given, and once more hold entire worlds under their control, as they once had? 

“You’re welcome to stay here while you work out your proposal to the Chancellor,” Mace said. “I don’t feel like listening to Obi-Wan bitch now that he’s found you.” 

“Hey,” Obi-Wan protested, and several of the Councillors chuckled softly. 

“Any other business?” Depa Billaba asked, and in a wave, the other Councillors shook their heads. Obi-Wan bowed, and led Jango and Anakin out. Anakin waved to Boba, who had been waiting in the antechamber with a datapad to amuse himself. 

“I’m going to find Tru,” Anakin said, naming one of his friends. 

“What, you don’t want to spend more time with your old Master after being on a ship together for a week?” Obi-Wan teased. Anakin made a vaguely rude hand gesture, then strode toward the lifts.

“So we’ll have your room to ourselves, hmm?” Jango rumbled in Obi-Wan’s in-helmet comm, and Obi-Wan let out a wet laugh, turning to cling to his spouse for a moment. 

“He grew up so fast,” Obi-Wan shrugged, then knelt and addressed Boba. “It’s up to you, Boba. Would you rather stay with your buir and me in my room, or with the younglings in the creche?”

“Do they have games in the creche?” Boba asked very seriously, carefully fitting his mouth around the unfamiliar word. 

“They do,” Obi-Wan affirmed. 

“And dessert?” 

“If you behave,” Obi-Wan answered, and Boba screwed his face up thoughtfully. “The regular mess where your buir and I will eat has dessert too.” 

“I want to play,” Boba declared. “And you guys will just - make kissy faces.” Obi-Wan bit back a laugh.

“We have a lot of missed kisses to make up for,” Obi-Wan said very seriously, and Boba made one of the most disgusted expressions Obi-Wan had ever had the good fortune to see. 

“Ugh,” Boba said. “I’ll stay in the creche.” Obi-Wan smiled. 

“I don’t mind if you want to stay with your buir,” Obi-Wan promised. 

“No, I’ll stay with the others,” Boba declared, drawing himself up and jutting out his chin. 

“Alright, why don’t I show you the way then,” Obi-Wan offered, glancing up at Jango to make sure that was okay. Jango nodded, and so did Boba, so Obi-Wan rose, offering Boba one hand, and Jango the other. Together they walked down into the residential areas of the Temple, with Obi-Wan occasionally pointing out items of interest, like the entrances to some of the garden rooms. The Alpha ARCs were all still in the Halls of Healing, and the Haat Mando’ade had opted to sleep on board the _Daybreaker_ rather than take hastily aired out bunks in the Temple. 

That night, after a boisterous latemeal at which Jango got to meet some more of the Jedi his riduur had grown up amongst, the couple happily returned to Obi-Wan’s apartment. In his bedroom, they slowly, gently stripped one another’s armour, hands trembling. Jango carefully kissed each of the new scars etched into Obi-Wan’s skin as they were bared. 

“Jango, Jango,” Obi-Wan breathed against his lover’s skin, pressing his hands against Jango, not quite able to believe even after more than a week that they had finally been reunited. 

“I have you, I’m yours,” Jango promised just as fervently. “Ner cyare, ner riduur.”

“Gar cyar’ika, gar riduur,” Obi-Wan affirmed. They sank slowly into the bed, kneeling facing one another as they kissed and touched. 

“Need you,” Jango asked, resting their foreheads together after a deeper kiss. 

“I’m here,” Obi-Wan promised, and laid down, pulling Jango down on top of him. 

“‘Lek,” Jango breathed, and slotted their mouths together. They just rocked together for a while, clinging and kissing. Blindly finding his lube, Obi-Wan slicked his fingers and began to stroke Jango’s firm cock. Jango groaned softly in encouragement, rocking more firmly down against Obi-Wan’s hips. They kissed and touched hungrily as Obi-Wan carefully stroked Jango. Jango grew impatient before Obi-Wan did, shifting and taking Obi-Wan’s cock in hand, smearing precome down the shaft. Obi-Wan groaned at the sensation, then keened as Jango stroked them hard. 

“Good?” Jango asked with false innocence. 

“So good,” Obi-Wan slurred, hands clenching on Jango’s muscular thighs, pulling him close. Jango grinned, and began to thrust against Obi-Wan, driving them hard and fast to ecstasy. The slow re-learning of one another had been very much enjoyed, but he needed to stake his claim on Obi-Wan now, needed a reunion of a different sort. Obi-Wan keened and writhed, hands moving restlessly over Jango’s legs and hips and buttocks. 

With a groan, Jango fisted their cocks, knowing neither of them would last much longer. He stroked fast and firm, and came with a sharp cry, spurting over Obi-Wan’s belly. Obi-Wan cursed fluently, hands clasping at Jango’s hips hard enough there would likely be bruises in the morning, and then he was coming too, hips hitching up as he spent. 

Jango plastered himself over top of Obi-Wan a moment later, pressing sloppy kisses against his face. Obi-Wan kissed back eagerly, and soon they were laughing, then weeping, clinging together. Slowly the excess emotion faded, leaving them nuzzling together, kissing and cuddling. 

“We should clean up,” Obi-Wan murmured. 

“Should,” Jango agreed, but didn’t move. Obi-Wan snorted, then rose to grab a cloth from the ‘fresher and take care of the mess. When they were clean, Obi-Wan tossed the cloth lazily back toward the ‘fresher and slipped back into the bed. Soon they were both snoring softly, arms and legs still tangled together. 

Come morning, they woke slowly. They kissed deeply before rising to find shig and food, and ate pressed together on the bed. Eventually though, they dressed and went to look for their various dependants.

Anakin was in the training halls sparring with his friends, and they found Boba happily learning hand-to-hand with a clan of Younglings in one of the gymnasiums. Anakin waved them away almost without looking over, and Boba indicated he wished to stay where he was, and so Jango and Obi-Wan took the long way back around to the Halls of Healing to show Jango some more of the Temple. Most of the Alpha ARCs had been discharged and granted quarters in the Temple to recuperate, so Jango and Obi-Wan eventually found their way back to the _Daybreaker_ , where they called Arla and then spent the day with their clan, hammering out a proposal to get the clones full sentient rights and the Haat Mando’ade the authority to pursue the Sith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that Palpatine is still a Senator here! He’s very unhappy about that, but he hasn’t succeeded in killing his master yet, and since Padme didn’t go to Coruscant there was no vote of No Confidence in Valorum so he limped out the rest of his term under a cloud and Palpatine never had the same sort of sympathy vote catapulting him into the Chancellery. Sucks for him.
> 
> I headcanon the song the Haat Mando’ade sing after Jango and the Alpha ARCs sing Vod’e An as something like the USMC’s Marine Hymn, where verses are added to commemorate victories as needed. I headcanon a lot of Mando cultural practice as Māori cultural practice in honour of Temuera so the vode would have learned something like haka from Jango, and that might be part of a demonstration like this, but while writing I head-canoned the drill the vode perform as something more like the silent drill as performed by the USMC since I’m more familiar with that. 
> 
> **Mando’a:**  
>  Ad’ike = children  
> Akaan’redal = lit. war dance, from _akaan_ war and _redalur_ v. to dance. Something like the Māori haka  
> Gar cyar’ika = your beloved / sweetheart etc.   
> Hut’uun = coward. Pretty much the worst insult a Mando can give.  
> Jate bora = good job   
> Jate’kara = good luck. lit good stars, a course to steer by  
> ‘Lek = yeah, yes (short for elek)  
> Mir’sheb = wise ass  
> Ner cyare = my beloved  
> Riduur = spouse  
> Shebs = backside / ass  
> Shig = hot beverage, citrusy and stimulant  
> Verd’ike = little soldiers  
> Vod / Vod’e = sibling(s)  
> Vor’e = thanks  
> Vor’entye ori’vod = thank you big brother


	14. Chapter 14

The Jedi High Council’s announcement that they recommended hiring Mand’alor Fett and his Haat Mando’ade to run the war nearly nipped the entire conflict in the bud. Despite - or perhaps because of - Jango being out of the public view for the last ten years, legends of his exploits as leader of the Haat Mando’ade had only grown. Alongside the tales of his ruthlessness and competence in dealing with Death Watch, and his willingness to compromise with the pacifist New Mandalorians, the cultural memory of the Mando Crusades still lingered. 

No one wanted to piss off a Mando on the warpath. 

Jango’s announcement, calling all commandos and mercenaries willing to fight for the Haat Mando’ade and the Republic, had more than one world quietly quashing any Separatist sentiment in sheer terror, and half the Mando sector and much of the far-flung Mando diaspora fuelling their ships. Whether or not the Republic allowed him to lead the GAR into battle against the Separatists, Jango intended to hunt the Sith who had kept him from his husband and clan. If he could get the Republic to grant him authority within the GAR, though, he would have a say over how the clones were deployed, more chance to ensure they were treated as the full sentients they were. He would also have a lot more manpower - and a much larger budget - with which to hunt the Sith.

The Senate fractured into factions as soon as the proposal to hire Jango and the Haat Mando’ade was made. Some worlds opposed war of any sort on principle, not unlike the New Mandalorians. That faction, Jango knew he could ignore outright. War was upon them. Pure pacifism was a pipe-dream for the moment. Worlds that refused to fight would simply be annexed into the Separatist Confederacy and mined of their resources. 

At the opposite end of the spectrum from the pacifists were those who stood to profit the most off the war. Already Kuat was banking multi-billion-credit contracts to supply the Republic with ships, and other industrialized worlds would profit from the production of arms and armour. Most worlds in that faction were also perfectly fine with denying the ‘troopers both their rights as sapient beings and the remuneration they deserved. To them, the clones were armament, not people. 

Numerous other opinions ranged between those extremes. Many of the factions would wait to see which direction the majority of their fellows voted in any given situation, then simply follow suit. Others would be swayed by the recommendation of the Jedi - while not always popular, the Jedi were still a moral authority in the Core worlds, and their opinions held a certain amount of weight. Then there were those who would oppose the Jedi simply to oppose them. Not everyone viewed the Order in a positive light.

Alongside their recommendation of Jango, the Jedi announced they would continue their mediation, research, and emergency relief missions as usual on both sides of the line. The Order would make no military contribution to the conflict however; their military practice had ended with the Ruusan Reformation a millennia before. That restructuring of the Republic had dissolved the Army of Light, and stripped the Jedi of their arms and armour. If they were to once more lead the Republic military, they would hold the other tenets of that law equally void.

Obi-Wan rather wished that the paired announcements _had_ been enough to halt the conflict. A fevered round of negotiations commenced, and Obi-Wan was promptly dispatched to try and capitalize on the reconciliatory sentiment. To his credit, quite a few worlds that had been leaning toward secession decided, after Obi-Wan’s visits, to remain with the Republic. It helped that Obi-Wan refused to set aside his beskar’gam and travelled aboard the heavily armed and armoured _Daybreaker_ in a silent show of strength, a statement as persuasive as any he could make at the bargaining table. Equally helpfully, Jango had the tact to not attend the various summits at Obi-Wan’s side, as that would go beyond a show of strength and look rather more like a threat, which would be unhelpful in the long term. 

Unfortunately, the Geonosians and their allies just started churning out more droids from their foundries, and the corporate guilds agitated even harder for war. It was clear, to Obi-Wan at least, that they were being led - or perhaps pushed - to the brink of hostilities by a hand in the shadows. Obi-Wan wondered some nights, if it was the same shadowy hand active as far back as Galidraan. Had the Sith Master orchestrated that potential extirpation of the Haat Mando’ade? How long had the Sith been manipulating the Republic towards the brink of war? And what was their desired outcome? The questions could keep him from sleep if he let them. 

Thankfully, Jango was happy to fuck such thoughts out of his head when Obi-Wan was restless and brooding. 

When not escorting Obi-Wan and Anakin to various negotiations, Jango trained incessantly, almost obsessively, to get himself back to fighting fitness. Now past forty, he didn’t drop weight as easily as he once did, but he was happy to pack on muscle even if he didn’t lose some of the softness around his middle - and he knew that Obi-Wan liked that softness anyway.

The veteran Haat Mando’ade and untested ARC ‘troopers trained too, drilling and practicing together and individually in the Temple arenas and gymnasiums. The two groups integrated fairly easily, although some of the Haat Mando’ade still did a double-take when they saw a clone without their helmet on. The older members of the clan, after all, had known Jango from his youth, back when he’d still looked like the clones, all sharp cheekbones and morbid humour.

A few months after Jango and the Alpha-ARCs had arrived on Coruscant, Obi-Wan petitioned for an audience before the High Council. More and more since Kamino, he had been giving Anakin greater responsibility, and discussing the path he would travel as a Knight. While still reckless at times, and nothing like a diplomat, Anakin was ready to spread his wings. Caution, it seemed, was something Anakin would have to learn independently, rather than at Obi-Wan’s side, and Obi-Wan had to accept that his Padawan would always be more impetuous than he himself was. Before the Council, Obi-Wan spoke the traditional words as his own Master had done over a decade before, nominating Anakin to take the Trials for Knighthood. 

“Been expecting this, I have,” Yoda responded to the traditional entreaty, followed with a soft cackling laugh. Yoda hopped down from his chair and tottered over to peer up at Obi-Wan, then Anakin. “Young he is, to be a Knight.”

“But skilled,” Obi-Wan affirmed. “I am confident in his abilities.” 

“Hmmm,” Yoda said, still peering up at Anakin. “Surprised you are, young Skywalker?”

“A little, Master Yoda,” Anakin admitted. While Obi-Wan had been preparing him, and Anakin had accepted he would likely be nominated to his trials soon, he hadn’t quite expected the promotion _now_. “But I trust in my Master’s teaching, and in his evaluation of my skills. If he believes I am ready, I bow to his greater experience.” Obi-Wan almost blinked - such eloquence was rare from Anakin, especially when he was put on the spot. Which meant he spoke truly and from the heart. Obi-Wan’s own heart swelled with fondness. 

“Hmm, agree with your master, we do,” Yoda said, his wrinkly little face crinkling into a wide smile. “To your Trials, you are nominated. Begin at day-break they will.” With a few more words, the Council drew their session to a close. Anakin rounded to Obi-Wan as soon as he politely could, pulling him into a rough hug. 

“Vor’entye ori’vod,” Anakin choked out in thanks, his voice thick with emotion.

“Jate’kara,” Obi-Wan returned with a smile, leaning up to press their foreheads together. “I’m so proud of you, An’ika.” 

Anakin flushed and pulled away, dashing away a few tears. A few of the Councillors congratulated Anakin on their way out the door, and Anakin looked around the room once more, as if setting it in memory. If things went well, this would be the last time he stood here as a Padawan. The idea sent his heart racing before he could quite wrestle back control of his autonomous systems, and showed himself out to go begin his preparations. 

That night, Anakin meditated to calm himself, and at dawn, he entered the Chamber of Trial. Coruscant barely spun once before Anakin staggered back out, a Jedi Knight in all but name. The Council set his Knighting ceremony for the following day, and Anakin went to the Spire of Tranquility to complete the required meditations. While the normal still and seated meditation wasn’t Anakin’s greatest strength, there was room enough in the designated quarters that he could do some combat exercises as moving meditations instead. 

At the appointed time, Anakin walked into the Hall of Knighthood, and surrounded by his mentor and the High Council, was made a Jedi Knight. When the ceremony was complete, Anakin’s Padawan braid shorn and presented to Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan took Anakin to dinner at the Sunrise tapcafe. Jango was waiting for them outside, a knot of other Haat Mando’ade with him. Anakin grinned, remembering the tales he’d heard from Obi-Wan’s friends Quinlan and Garen about the party they’d come to here after Obi-Wan was knighted. 

The main barroom broke into shouted greetings and welcomes as the Mando’ade inside recognized Jango’s armour. Jango just shook his head, and went to get a private room where they wouldn’t be bothered. Before long, some of the other Haat Mando’ade showed up to raise a glass - or two or a few - in Anakin’s honour. 

Knowing that Anakin - like most newly-Knighted Jedi - would likely prefer to celebrate with his agemates, Obi-Wan, Jango and the older Haat Mando’ade made their excuses before it got too late, leaving Anakin in the Sunrise with the younger Mando’ade he had befriended over the years. Obi-Wan suspected that Tru, Aayla, and some of Anakin’s Jedi friends would find their way to the Sunrise before long to add their congratulations to the merriment.

When Anakin woke late the next morning, having stumbled drunkenly through the Temple back to the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan, he found Jango in the kitchenette with Obi-Wan, and a large crate stamped with the Haat Mando’ade shield-and-banners sitting in the center of the common room. Anakin looked from Obi-Wan and Jango, to the crate, then back at them. They both just grinned, and Obi-Wan pointed at the crate. 

Anakin rolled his eyes, then knelt and pried the lid open. Within was nestled a dully gleaming helmet with t-slit transparisteel visor, and beneath the helmet, a black armourweave jumpsuit and flat plates of unpainted durasteel. They would need forming to fit properly and protect him, but it was the making of a full set of beskar’gam, minus boots and gauntlets, which Anakin already owned and had customized to his liking. Anakin grinned up at Obi-Wan and Jango - as much as his knighting, full beskar’gam acknowledged him as an adult, and an independent being. 

“Vor’entye,” Anakin said sincerely. “I guess I know what I’m doing the next few days.” Obi-Wan grinned in return. 

“Ba’gedet’ye,” Obi-Wan returned just as firmly. “You’ve more than earned it.” Jango dipped his head in agreement, but didn’t insert himself into the moment between Master and former-Padawan. “Besides,” Obi-Wan said with a touch of mischief, “I won’t be able to protect you out there now.” Anakin scoffed, but rose and crossed to hug Obi-Wan tightly. 

“Vor’e,” Anakin said, reiterating his appreciation. Obi-Wan squeezed him, silently conveying his pride. 

“Go comm your mother, I know you were too drunk last night to give her the news,” Obi-Wan chided, and with a laugh, Anakin nodded and went to the datasuite. He would also have to message the quartermaster to arrange himself a bunk in the Knights’ dorms, and see to moving his things. Once everything was arranged, he’d be headed out into the galaxy, without Obi-Wan’s expertise at his shoulder to fall back on.

* * *

The _Daybreaker_ remained parked on the Temple ziggurat when not conveying Obi-Wan to far flung worlds to convince them to stay in the Republic, functioning as both dormitory and mobile command center for the Haat Mando’ade. Other Mando’ade streamed in from across the galaxy to join the cause, bringing their own ships or catching rides with clan members or on any other transport headed core-ward. 

Tensions ran high with so many Mando’ade sharing space, and fights almost constantly broke out. For the most part, Jango let them brawl it out, knowing that disagreements had to come to a head one way or another, and a fight usually settled things, at least for a while. If a brawl got serious enough, Jango or his lieutenants would step in to make sure no one died of stupidity. 

When the Senate finally pushed through a resolution on the clones and the war, it named Jango the Commandant of the Grand Army of the Republic and accepted all of his conditions for fighting at the head of the Republic’s army, including full citizenship for all the clones. Jango wasn’t the only one surprised, given how much furore had erupted over the initial proposal of the idea. Evidently though, the Senate had decided the sheer intimidation factor attached to the Mando’ade was well worth paying for. 

It helped too that Mace absolutely and categorically refused to allow the Jedi Order to become a military organization, shutting down a surprisingly popular proposition from Senator Palpatine of Naboo. Evidently, Mace’s willingness to quote chapter and verse on the historical precedents that had led to the Ruusan Reformation and the disbanding of the last army the Jedi had led had finally worked its way into the collective mindset of the Senate. They collectively agreed that they liked the balance of power as it was - firmly out of Jedi control.

As head of the army, Jango’s first order was to permanently disband the current training corps at Kamino and send a cohort of Haat Mando’ade he could trust. Arla, recently arrived to Coruscant from Concord Dawn, went with them, as did a few dozen Jedi - crechemasters, instructors, and Healers handpicked by Jango with Obi-Wan’s assistance. Arla would be Jango’s spokesperson, the Mando’ad in charge of overseeing the training and upbringing of the clones on Kamino. Jango had no doubt she’d start them at the basics of the Resol’nare and work up from there. The Healers had direction to remove the chips as quickly as possible, and Jedi slicers were already working on figuring out what was on them, certain it could be nothing good.

For the Alpha ARCs - although it wasn’t so much an order as an offer - the Haat Mando’ade pulled their portable forges out of storage in the _Daybreaker_ and set them up on the Temple plaza. Most of the forges were retrofitted sublight engines, firing hot enough to slag any type of metal in the known universe, including rare and finicky beskar. In their training, Jango had instructed the ARCs to figure out the actual, practical limits of their plastoid armour. It didn’t take nearly as long as Jango might have hoped before the mass-produced plates were scuffed and dinged and starting to chip and warp out of shape. The Haat Mando’ade might not have the resources to fully armour the entire army in durasteel and armourweave, nevermind beskar, but they could at least make a start, and Jango’s eldest clones were first on the docket.

As his second official act as Commandant, Jango requested Obi-Wan as his official Jedi liaison and put him in charge of helping integrate any Jedi who wished to work within the structure of the army. They would have no preferential treatment within the army over any other natural born officer who volunteered for duty, but Jango would be one of the first to admit how handy a Jedi could be on the battlefield if they knew what they were doing. 

Obi-Wan was the one to ensure they knew what they were doing. That involved teaching the Jedi some basic Mando combat tactics and then throwing them into the simulators until they knew how to attack and defend in a mass melee without either shutting down or being killed by the first stray blaster-bolt. Those who excelled at it tended to be last-ditch negotiators like Obi-Wan, trained to both mediate conflicts and act as bodyguards in tense situations. For many of that speciality, this was their first time working alongside another Jedi since they had been Padawans, or raised their last Padawan to Knighthood. 

Like the Jedi lightsaber forms, many of the tactics the Mando’ade used, were named after animals whose behavior they emulated. In Jai’galaar formation, named after the shriek-hawk, commandos with jetpacks took diving strafing runs from above. In Ulik formation, they massed like a great herd, making their individual forms difficult to pick off.

Other Mando tactics though, were named after famous war leaders who had developed the stratagems, or battles where those tactics had turned the tide in favour of the Mando’ade using them. Obi-Wan had listened avidly to tactical planning meetings while a Padawan on that fateful mission to Galidraan, picking out the words he knew and rapidly learning more so he could follow the conversations of the Mand’alor and his seconds. Now, all that listening was paying off, allowing him to understand how to fit Jedi into Mando battle plans.

Because many of the Jedi who volunteered had experience handling high risk negotiations, they would also function as diplomats for the army and Republic as a whole, undertaking final mediations before any battle was enjoined. In total, a few dozen Knights and Masters were willing to follow the orders of Jango and the Haat Mando’ade. The other contributions - the main and even more valuable contributions - of the Order to the war effort were the intelligence network of the Jedi Shadows and Watchmen, and the infrastructure of their already vast organization - no small gift once Jango realized the true size of the Order. 

Knights like Obi-Wan were the smallest population of Jedi by number, despite being the most publicly recognizable members of the Order. The far more populous AgriCorps would not cease their vital environmental remediation and horticultural research operations, but they were willing to function as supply depots for Republic and allied troops. The MedCorps would not set aside their free clinics, but their emergency response teams committed to providing assistance on battlefields as well as their more regular calls to natural disasters and worlds torn by civil war. The ExplorCorps would funnel their sensor information into the Shadows network, adding their observations of shipping and hyperspace lanes and troop movements. The EduCorps archivists would assist the Shadows in sorting and analyzing intelligence. 

Jango was frankly a bit awed at how much of the burden of the war the Order was willing to shoulder, and how apparent it was that they were something like a nation-state within the Republic, nearly self sufficient save that their need to help others sometimes outstripped their readily available resources. Still, the AgriCorps provided the majority of the food consumed by members of the Order, and even more nutrients for emergency relief efforts. Their educational and health care services were also provided by the Jedi of the Service Corps, and while most civilians only knew of the Knights, there were many - many - more Jedi following other paths, the Service Corps outnumbering the Knights at least ten to one. 

It took a few months after the announcements, but eventually the Separatists grew tired of waiting and negotiating, and made their first strike - Christophsis. Isolated on the Outer Rim, the main export of Christophsis was crystals, including ones of a quality to be used in lightsabers. More importantly to the Senate, Christophsis was situated on the Corellian Run, and capturing it would position the Separatists to move on the valuable hyperspace lane. 

For their first true engagement - although some negotiations had required aggressive extraction - they went to battle on a Republic cruiser rather than the _Daybreaker_. Jango had named the massive ship _Mythosaur_ after the Mandalorian beasts of legend. She held a full wing of fighters, a full complement of troop dropships, and barracks full of ‘troopers fresh from Kamino. The _Daybreaker_ flew at her side, captained by Myles and crewed by a contingent of Mando’ade and Alpha ARCs. Most of the ARCs had at least chestplates of durasteel and armourweave, supplemented with new plastoid armour to replace what they’d already broken. 

Although he’d directed the extraction efforts when Obi-Wan needed to get off world in a hurry after failed negotiations, Christophsis was the first full-scale engagement Jango had properly run in years. His stomach churned as they burned through hyperspace. As Commandant, it was unlikely he’d even be going planetside; his job for the moment was to coordinate the various factions as they hopefully routed the Separatists. All the same, he wanted to be down in the thick of it, at Obi-Wan’s side, leading his men from the front as he always had. It had been a hard enough argument to get himself on the _Mythosaur_ though, rather than coordinating from a war room on Coruscant. 

The initial attack started well. Although Jango was more experienced with ground assaults than airborne or space warfare, he intended to start as he meant to go on; by crushing and utterly humiliating the Separatists. That outcome wasn’t guaranteed of course, but Jango liked his chances. The training corps had given him good reports on the oldest batches of clones, and those who lagged behind were just held back a little longer, no judgement made. Not everyone learned at the same pace after all, even if they were nearly identical in appearance. It meant that the first cadets activated into the army - and into full citizenship per Jango’s demands - would be some of the best of the early batches. 

The next few hours passed in a blur of orders called and confirmed, explosions, implosions, strafing runs and landing actions. Breaking the blockade was in many ways the easy part, and Jango had experience with breaking blockades. They punched through without much trouble, but battle droids had been improved in the years since the Haat Mando’ade re-took Naboo. Taking out a Lucrehulk control ship wouldn’t automatically disable the ground forces any more. They’d have to take the planet on foot eventually, and drive the droids off the surface. 

As the battle stretched past a few hours and towards a day, Jango’s stomach continued to roil. He tied not to prioritize reports from the sector Obi-Wan had deployed in, reminding himself that they’d both made promises, to themselves, each other, and the other important people in their lives, that their relationship wouldn’t impede their ability to wage this war. Jango had meant every word; he just wasn’t sure he could actually keep those promises in practice, now that the fat was in the fire.

It had only been a few months since Jango was freed from his isolation on Kamino. While he was there, he had worried about Obi-Wan, about Arla, about Myles, and Silas, and the other Haat Mando’ade. But he’d also been able to accept that he couldn’t do anything to protect them. He’d barely felt able to protect himself. Now, every time the comms went staticy or cut out, worry spiraled towards fear. He knew he had to trust them, and he did. He also nearly worried himself sick before ‘all clear’ signals started coming in.

In the end, it took them three days and more lives than Jango could yet bear to tabulate to break the Separatist blockade and establish a stable foothold on Christophsis. When things had subsided to a stage Jango could reasonably call mop-up, he arranged to head to the surface himself to meet with his commanders on the ground and get their reports face-to-face. His various advisors weren’t terribly pleased at the idea, but they also couldn’t wholly argue against it - they all understood a battlefield looked different from eye-level. The planetside command center was secure, and so was the flyway to access it. They stalled, but eventually he was on a dropship with some of the other officers, heading down to get in-person briefings.

There was barely time to call warning before the dropship exploded around Jango. A garbled cry of alarm, and then everything was on fire and he was in freefall. His beskar’gam once again saved his life. He barely managed to engage his jetpack at an altitude where it would prevent him smearing across the landscape. When he hit dirt, he came up firing, his HUD blinking unhappily but still identifying actionable targets. He could hear frenzied chatter in his comm, but ignored it, too busy firing as if his life depended on it - it probably did. Someone had fucked up, and when Jango figured out who they were going to get an earful.

A few clicks away Obi-Wan swore, hastening to finish his own fight before roaring skyward, his jetpack burning hard. Jango was in trouble. Two stories above where Jango knelt, Obi-Wan cut his jetpack and let gravity take hold. He plummeted earthward, barely controlling his descent with the Force. He landed like a comet, whirling into the droids like a maelstrom. Jango let himself sag back against the ground as Obi-Wan crouched over him like a protective mother nexu, batting away blaster bolts as if they were irritating flies rather than deadly fire.

“I thought you were staying aloft?” Obi-Wan shouted, deflecting bolt after bolt. Jango didn’t even have an answer for the criticism. He was the Commandant, and responsible for so much more than this battle. 

“Intel said the command center and flyway were clear,” Jango shouted back. “I know I messed up.” He deftly replaced the charge pack in one of his blasters and shifted to put his back against some debris so he could cover Obi-Wan from at least one angle. A phalanx of jetpacks screamed overhead, laying down suppressing fire. Obi-Wan reached back and hauled Jango to his feet, dragging him to a protected alcove. Jango panted heavily; a blaster-bolt had made it through his armourweave, searing his lower leg. He knew he was lucky to have that be the worst of it, and they weren’t in the clear yet. 

It took another hour, but they made it through the resurgent fighting to the command center. Jango’s leg was hurting enough by then that he didn’t even argue when he was led past the actual command center to triage. Obi-Wan soon had him out of his armour and into a flimsy infirmary gown. Jango didn’t argue, although he did raise his eyebrows at being summarily stripped when there was fighting ongoing. Obi-Wan just glowered him into compliance and Jango let himself be managed.

“Intel said we had them routed,” Jango admitted with chagrin when Obi-Wan’s look demanded an explanation. “Lesson learned.” Obi-Wan sighed, resting their heads together and then nodding and moving back so the medic, a clone named Lump, could take a look at Jango. 

“Take a look at his ribs too, he went down pretty hard,” Obi-Wan advised. Jango grumbled, but didn’t argue. Lump nodded, and pulled over a portable imager. With a sigh, Jango straightened up, sucking in his belly in a bit of vanity as he lifted his arms. He knew the procedure well at this point. While the imager was working, Lump gently cleaned and disinfected the singe on Jango’s leg, then slathered the wound with bacta before wrapping it in a bandage. 

“So,” Lump said, leveling an ominous look at Jango as he read over the ‘pad with his chart. “The good news is your leg will be fine, stay off it as much as possible the next few days. The - interesting, let’s go with interesting - news, is that you’re about four months pregnant, congratulations.” 

“I - what?!?” Jango choked out. Obi-Wan, who’d been leaning against the doorjamb, jerked upright as if prodded with a gaffi stick. 

“Pregnant,” Lump reiterated, then keyed the holo-emitter on their ‘pad. A soft blue scan of Jango’s torso formed, heart and lungs caged in his ribs, stomach, liver, kidneys, and twist of intestines below, and settled low in the cradle of his pelvis, a womb containing a growing fetus. “All that non-human DNA the vod’ike show? Yeah.” 

“Pfassk,” Jango murmured weakly, hand falling to rest on his stomach. He’d been frequently nauseous, but he thought it was from the stress of taking on responsibility for a galaxy-wide war. And he’d had trouble losing weight, had been gaining it around the middle instead, but he’d blamed that on his long inactivity on Kamino and his indulgence in the wider selection of meals available to him since leaving. 

It - made sense, Jango supposed. He’d known he was better classed as near-human despite his mainline human appearance. Ever since Obi-Wan had found him, he’d been thinking about kids too, about whether Obi-Wan would have more Padawans or maybe they’d adopt siblings for Boba when the war was over. This just - moved the question up a bit. Made the possibility into a reality. Because there was no way he wasn’t going to do his utmost to carry to term. 

“Ob’ika?” Jango asked, “thoughts?”

“Ah - thoughts on what? I mean - I didn’t know this was possible but it’s your body, your choice, and I’m not going anywhere. They do speculate the Taung were intersex as humans define these things after all - or agender? I’m not sure which is more accurate, but they didn’t define gender as we do - there’s a reason that gender was a late addition to Mando’a,” Obi-Wan babbled nervously. Jango grinned. 

“We made a baby,” Jango said simply.

“We made a baby,” Obi-Wan agreed disbelievingly. “Force. _We_ made a _baby_.”

“No panicking,” Jango insisted. 

“I’m not panicking,” Obi-Wan argued, clearly on the verge of panicking. 

“Deep breaths,” Jango said, and Obi-Wan let out a nervous laugh. As suggested though, he took a few deep breaths. 

“It’s your decision, Jango,” Obi-Wan said after a moment, then smiled. “But - I would - that is to say - mhi ba’juri verde,” Obi-Wan said, voice thick with emotion. Jango cracked a smile at that, and Obi-Wan pushed off the wall to engulf Jango’s shoulders in a hug. “You get to tell Boba though.” Jango barked out a wet laugh. He agreed - this was definitely something Boba would need to learn from him. 

“I, uh - I don’t have any information on - uh - pregnancy,” Lump said awkwardly when Jango and Obi-Wan parted, Obi-Wan settling on the med-bed at Jango’s side and holding his hand. 

“That’s okay, Lump, I’ll find a specialist; given the circumstances this probably qualifies as a high-risk pregnancy,” Jango said with a slight smile. Lump, like most of the clones who met Jango, were a bit in awe of the Mand’alor. They knew that their creation hadn’t exactly been Jango’s choice, but they also knew that Jango was fighting for them, wanted them to grow strong and to have all the rights and privileges of other sentients - wanted to properly be their buir even if many of them thought themselves too old for that sort of thing. It was a low bar, but many of them adored Jango nonetheless. 

“Would you be opposed to seeing a Jedi healer?” Obi-Wan offered. “Force users are much more likely than the average population to carry unusual hybrids to term, and despite that you present as mainline human-”

“It’s likely the non-human DNA that’s allowing this,” Jango picked up. “Like you said, blame the Taung. Plus, it’s pretty likely the ik’aad is going to be Force-sensitive, if that runs in families?”

“It usually does,” Obi-Wan said with a nod. “The majority of the Jedi population are born to parents who are at least a little Force sensitive, just not always strong enough in the Force to become Jedi themselves. And there are many well known Jedi bloodlines - well, they’re well known in the Order,” he explained. Jango raised his eyebrows, inviting further explanation. “Master Plo Koon from Kel Dor has a niece, and an uncle, and a cousin in the Order,” Obi-Wan said by way of example. “I haven’t researched my own bloodline, but I was in the minority of my youngling clan in the creche because I came from a planet where there was no Service Corps presence.”

“They don’t let Jedi raise their own kids?” Jango asked, a little concerned. 

“They would if the parents wished to retain custody, and that’s your decision,” Obi-Wan said. “But the Jedi as a culture view communal child rearing as the norm. Historically speaking, Force-sensitives tended to be very valuable slaves - the Order takes on children as much to protect their families as anything. While I respect that other cultures have other practices, to a Jedi, the idea of not raising children in a creche model seems very - lonely,” Obi-Wan settled on saying. “We develop differently in the creche - we vocalize much later than is average for our species, but in full sentences, and we form bonds in the Force to those we’re raised with. 

“Even now if I was standing in front of a holomap I could point out the sectors where all my living crechemates are currently deployed. Like I said though, it’s your decision, and it’s not guaranteed the child will be Force-sensitive. Likely, but not guaranteed,” Obi-Wan explained, and Jango nodded. “And it’s not a decision we have to make for some time,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Most crechelings are dedicated to the Temple between one and three Standard years of age. I was younger, but I was also, as I said, a bit of a rare case.”

“Have you ever gone back?” Jango asked, surprised he’d never thought to raise the question before. 

“To Stewjon?” Obi-Wan clarified, and Jango nodded. Obi-Wan shook his head. “I know that’s where I was born, but I’ve felt no need to return. I’ve researched the culture a little, but I’ve always viewed the Temple as my home, and the Jedi my family. After Galidraan, the Haat Mando’ade and you were added to that. I never needed anything else,” Obi-Wan said. 

Jango could accept that. He had longed for family in the uncertain days after the farm was burned, when he thought Arla and all his other kin dead and gone. Jaster Mereel had filled that ache by becoming his buir and making the Haat Mando’ade his aliit. While he’d wanted ad’ike of his own, he knew not everyone was as family oriented as he was, and that definitions of family - aliit - varied. For him, the Haat Mando’ade was his family. For Obi-Wan, it was them and the Jedi Order.

“Fair enough,” Jango murmured, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand. 

“Medevac should be here soon, ‘Alor,” Lump said. 

“Do you want me to stay here or come with?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes soft. 

“We promised,” Jango said quietly.

“There is nothing I have taken on here that another could not do,” Obi-Wan promised. 

“Come with me then,” Jango asked, and Obi-Wan nodded. Jango pulled his armour back on with Obi-Wan’s help, and they rode up together with a ship full of wounded, the med bays on the _Mythosaur_ better equipped to care for the injured ‘troopers than any of the triage centers on planet. Jango himself didn’t need to be seen to, but Lump had ordered him to take it easy. He let Obi-Wan fuss him out of his beskar’gam, and into their shared berth.

“You know, you aren’t allowed on the ground on any even potentially disputed planets now,” Obi-Wan warned when they’d settled in, pressed against Jango’s side in their bunk, hand splayed warmly over the soft swell of their child at Jango’s waist. Jango huffed, bussing Obi-Wan on the forehead. 

“I’m not planning to be off Coruscant any time soon,” Jango reassured. “You’re going to be the biggest worrier, aren’t you?” he asked fondly. 

“Are you surprised?” Obi-Wan asked in return. Jango huffed, shaking his head and pulling Obi-Wan into a proper kiss. 

“Not in the least,” Jango admitted. He hesitated, turning his next words over carefully thrice in his mind and once in his mouth before speaking. “I’d like to keep it a secret. Not from Boba or the clan, but from the general public, as long as possible. It - it will be seen as a weakness, and I’m not sure we can afford that.”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m going to do everything I can to make this easier for you.”

“I know you will,” Jango murmured, and kissed Obi-Wan softly. “Kriff, this explains why I’ve been so horny,” he huffed, and Obi-Wan laughed delightedly. 

“You mean you weren’t just insatiable for me after our long separation?” Obi-Wan teased. 

“That too,” Jango murmured fondly, and pulled Obi-Wan into a more heated kiss. “I can’t fucking believe you got me pregnant.” 

“All as the Force wills,” Obi-Wan returned, then gently smoothed his hand over Jango’s belly. “Probably a good thing you’ve never been much for bottoming.” 

Jango huffed, but didn’t argue. “Probably,” he agreed, mind coming up with all the times it would have been a terrible idea to be pregnant. Not that being pregnant right now, at the start of a war, was optimal. But at least he could coordinate things from his capital ship or Coruscant - was _supposed_ to coordinate things from his capital ship or Coruscant. 

Before, he’d always been an active participant in the fighting, or - worse, he could have been pregnant when he was taken to Kamino. The idea made him shudder with distress. Obi-Wan just held him tighter, silently buoying him. No, he’d stay aloft, and not argue. More than his own life was on the line now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  aliit - family  
> Ik’aad = baby, child under 3  
> Mhi ba’juri verde = we will raise warriors, part of the Mando marriage vows.


	15. Chapter 15

Jango quietly told Myles, Silas, and his other close friends about the pregnancy in person. For Arla, he had to satisfy himself with a secure holocall to break the news. Arla laughed herself silly, especially since when Jango had learned she was dating again, he’d driven her nuts reminding her to be careful. 

Myles and Silas were more than a little surprised - less by Jango’s desire to carry to term, or even the fact that a being who presented as male physically and socially was pregnant, and more because of the timing. They understood that Jango might not have chosen the time, but he would do his best to protect the pregnancy. They volunteered to pass on the word to the rest of command, and through the ranks of the loyal veterans of the clan. Which meant of course that it seemed the whole army knew in short order. 

Jango soon couldn’t go anywhere without tripping over an ARC trooper or two, and it didn’t take him long to realize he was being guarded. The only thing that kept his temper in check at being so coddled was the fact that they were just as protective of Obi-Wan. As the pregnancy progressed, Jango settled into quarters in the Jedi Temple, running the war from the secure communications center there. He didn’t like being out of the field, but it was a compromise he was more than willing to make. So he went to his appointments with the Jedi healers as scheduled, ate according to his prescribed diet, and didn’t engage in training that ran the risk of bodily contact.

There were some benefits, Jango supposed. Primary among them was that Boba lived full time with him and Obi-Wan, although he spent his days playing in the creche or attending lessons with the Jedi younglings. Boba introduced his buir to many aspects of Temple life that Jango had never considered. While he knew Obi-Wan had been raised in a youngling clan, nostalgic stories hadn’t quite illustrated how warm and loving creche life was, how younglings of similar ages were allowed to grow and play and learn together.

In truth, Jango had never had much chance to learn about the Jedi as a culture, or even to spend much time with Obi-Wan’s friends. They had usually met up when Obi-Wan was on missions, rather than Jango coming to Coruscant, and Obi-Wan’s stories couldn’t teach Jango about his whole culture during those visits. Jango had read over the information the Kaminoans had provided on the Jedi, the prominent members of the Order and their skills, but not wholly trusted it - not wholly trusted _them_. Now, with Jango and Obi-Wan living together, Obi-Wan’s friends came by with some regularity, or joined them when they ate in the refectory for meals, and Jango could easily see that they really were a family, and one not that much more politely mannered than Jango’s. 

Anakin was one of their most frequent guests when he was on planet, although he wasn’t in the Temple often. As a newly risen Knight, Anakin was slogging his way through his first solo missions, learning how best to apply Obi-Wan’s teachings when his Master wasn’t there at his side. Despite Obi-Wan’s best attempts, Anakin was no diplomat, and his missions tended to see him attached to ExploraCorps outposts, mapping Wild Space and the Unknown Regions, or protecting monarchs and Senators of vulnerable worlds, and other important persons.

It was through his skills as a protection specialist that Anakin met Padmé Amidala Naberrie, former Queen of Naboo and current Public Relations specialist for the Refugee Relief Movement. That non-governmental organization had become even more instrumental since the start of the war, working with Senate, Jedi, and military alike to facilitate the safe migration of war-torn populations to and from both Separatist and Republic worlds. Padmé’s visibility, though, meant opponents of the RRM’s mission focused on her, and her personal guard no longer felt up to the task of ensuring her safety. As the former protegé of Senator Palpatine, he called on the Jedi to protect her. 

With the Jedi spread so thin by galaxy-wide conflict, such requests were not always filled. The goals of the Refugee Relief Movement were altruistic and the former Queen well-regarded, so the directive to protect Amidala was given priority, and Anakin was sent to play bodyguard. His first call back to Obi-Wan consisted mostly of complaints about how very obstinate Padmé was. Obi-Wan and Jango, remembering that trait well, simply laughed and asked Anakin to pass on their greetings. 

Upon learning Anakin had been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, Padmé became slightly more tractable. By then though, Anakin was already smitten with her righteous anger and vehemence. Recognizing the symptoms well, Obi-Wan gently talked Anakin through his initial panic. Love, Obi-Wan knowingly reminded Anakin, was not the same thing as attachment. So long as Anakin could set aside his feelings for Padmé and act as a Jedi, there was nothing barring a romantic relationship between them. Of course, all of that was predicated on Padmé returning Anakin’s regard. Tales of the romancing of Padmé became Obi-Wan and Jango’s chief amusement before long. It was a bright spot in the continuing conflict that engulfed the Republic. 

The war escalated despite Jango and the GAR’s best efforts. By Jango’s seventh month of pregnancy, there was no hiding his condition, and he was followed everywhere by a gaggle of nervous clones, including at least one medic. Obi-Wan tended to find Jango’s shadows adorable and the situation hilarious, and did absolutely nothing to impede the attempts at coddling. The ‘troopers took Obi-Wan’s encouragement of their obsession with Jango and the baby’s safety as permission to fuss over Obi-Wan as well. That, Obi-Wan enjoyed slightly less, although he happily took under his wing any ‘trooper that stood still too long in his presence, treating them all more or less like senior Padawans and dispensing advice of varying usefulness. 

As Jango’s official Jedi liaison, Obi-Wan was more or less Temple-bound himself, although he took occasional trips to Kamino to retrieve the Force-sensitive clones as they were identified. Once on Coruscant and weaned off the hormone-supplemented Kamino rations, their aging slowed to human normal, and they joined the creche as Initiates. Jango found himself spending a lot of time with them when he wasn’t hip-deep in strategy planning or supply requisitioning or after action reports. 

Spending time in the creche allowed Jango to better understand Obi-Wan’s perspective on communal child rearing, although he still wasn’t sure how he felt about allowing someone else to be the primary caregiver for _his_ child. That was a concern for later. He still had a couple months of pregnancy left, and a war to win. 

Still, they did talk about the child, and what they wanted for them. Both Obi-Wan and Jango agreed their ik’aad would grow up with the Resol’nare, as Boba had - as Jango had. Obi-Wan was happy to point out all the benefits of Jedi training - Jedi culture - too, and Jango did his best to keep an open mind. The first few years at least, the baby would be in their custody, and while Jango accepted that a certain amount of training would be needed if they were Force-sensitive, Obi-Wan was more than capable of that level of education. After that, they would have a decision to make.

They decided early on that the gender of the child was unimportant - not only would they adore the child regardless, but the Mando’a language wasn’t the only part of Mando culture where gender was irrelevant. Jango had adopted male pronouns when speaking Basic simply because it made his life easier when interacting with outsiders, and Boba had followed suit, wishing to emulate Jango in all things. When the new baby was older, they would choose gendered pronouns if they wished, but like most Mando young, their child would grow up using they/them in Basic. 

Obi-Wan and Jango discussed the birth plan in detail too. A surgical delivery would be required, and so they talked at length about when that should be scheduled and what it would entail. And in the quiet of their apartment, Jango and Obi-Wan began to think about names.

“So how does naming work on Stewjon?” Jango asked one night, sipping at his shig while the babe played meshgeroya with his organs. 

“It’s technically a four part name,” Obi-Wan said from the kitchenette, where he was tidying up the dishes from their meal. “Birth clan name, given name, bearer’s birth clan name, sire’s birth clan name. So if my parents had lived with my mother’s clan after they married, I would be Ken-Wan Kenobi. My father’s name was Obi-Tehr Obiobi. My mother was Ken-Ahn Kerken. There are also honourary names, so if you’re accomplished in martial arts, you can add a title, if you’re an accomplished musician, you add a different title, and so forth. I’m guessing that’s not how it works on Concord Dawn?”

“No,” Jango huffed out with a smile. “First name is chosen by your parents, second name is your - house. The family you _can’t_ choose, although once you’re older you can disavow them. Different members of the same house might support different clans, although generally whole houses will be under a single clan’s protection, and some of the houses that have been very powerful for a very long time have clans of the same name.”

“Like Clan and House Kryze,” Obi-Wan remembered, entering the common area, and Jango grimaced, but nodded. “I’m perfectly fine with using the Mando naming conventions.” He sat at Jango’s side. “Does Jango have significance? I’ve been told Stewjoni tend to reuse particular given names within clans and family lines, so my father’s grandfather was also a ‘Wan’ but his full name was Obi-Wan Obiobi. I don’t know if there’s meaning to the name beyond that.”

“Jango’s a Concord Dawn name more than a Mando name,” Jango said, “it means something along the lines of ‘hot or unformed metal,’ in the Concord Dawn dialect of Mando’a, and it’s not really used outside the Fetts and some of the more closely intermarried families. Mostly we name for people and things that are important to us. Boba’s name means lucky, and that - it’s usually a nickname, but it seemed to fit. Arla’s name is more common, but if it means something specific, I don’t know what.”

“I’d like the ik’aad to be a Fett,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “The Stewjoni conventions don’t really apply since I don’t live among their clans, and I’d like the ik’aad to have that tie to our people.” Jango smiled, as always pleased by the reminder that Obi-Wan had chosen to become Mando, had chosen _him_. Given all the bad news that seemed to inundate them daily, reminders of such things were doubly nice.

“Would it be too soon to to name them after Jan?” Jango asked one night, returning to their ongoing conversation about naming the ik’aad, and Obi-Wan smiled, the expression a bit wobbly. 

“No, not too soon at all,” Obi-Wan said gruffly. “I - I wouldn’t want their name to be ‘Jan’ in entirety, but something to honour him - that - that would be lovely.” Jango pulled Obi-Wan down so he could press a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“Genet,” Jango offered after a few moments thought. Grey - it aptly summed up Jan in both appearance and philosophy, Obi-Wan thought, as he hummed in consideration. 

“Mird,” Obi-Wan countered, the root of both the verb ‘to think’ and the adjective ‘clever, intelligent.’ 

They went back and forth over many nights, tossing out and reconsidering names, mostly Mando, although some came from other cultures they had encountered over the years. Some were just pleasurable to say or hear, others had meaning they associated with Jan - wise, intelligent, brave, stubborn.

Their discussions about their child were a welcome balm against the horrors of the ongoing war. The clones died by the thousands, tens and hundreds of thousands despite Jango’s best efforts to take their targets with minimal loss of life. Obi-Wan knew each death pained his riduur, despite that there was no way for Jango to individually know even a fraction of his ade. 

Foremost among the Separatist Generals was their Supreme Commander, a cyborg who called himself Grievous, and had a deep and abiding hatred for the Jedi. Grievous was skilled at the large-scale planning of the war, and Jango soon learned to dread engaging with him. They traded victories back and forth, but even when the GAR gained its objective against Grievous, they took heavy casualties. It didn’t help that even when it seemed like they had Grievous pinned, the cyborg would manage to escape, fleeing to fight another day. 

In addition to the regular military of the Separatists, there were also myriad assassins and bounty hunters willing to hunt Jedi and vode alike. An attack on an outlying Jedi Temple resulted in a dead Master and Padawan pair, and left surveillance footage that sent Obi-Wan’s memory immediately back to Naboo and the first Sith he had faced. A many-horned warrior with dark facial markings, calling for the deaths of the Jedi, the clones, and the Haat Mando’ade who made up much of the officer corps. 

Savage Opress.

Zabrak. 

Possibly a Sith Apprentice. 

Opress wielded a lightstaff in that distinctive shade of crimson that Obi-Wan alone among the Jedi had seen twice before. The slaughter of the two Jedi would have been more than enough to draw the Order’s attention, but Savage soon appeared on the battlefield leading Separatist troops, making him a threat the GAR also wanted eliminated. When the GAR intelligence officers learned that the warrior was on the move, Obi-Wan was dispatched to see if he could track him. Quinlan Vos, his boyhood friend and an experienced Shadow, was at his side, and a cadre of Jango’s Alpha ARCs watched their backs. 

Of all the clones, the Alpha ARCS who had trained the most with Jango were the most capable at meeting Force users in head-on battle. There was already talk of some of their cadre being sent back to Kamino to help train more Commandos, alongside the Haat Mando’ade who had taken over the training corps there, but for the most part it was just talk. The army couldn’t afford to take experienced men off the battlefield. 

Obi-Wan didn’t particularly want to leave. By then, Jango was entering the ninth and final month of his pregnancy, and Obi-Wan wanted to be in the Temple with his riduur, not chasing across the galaxy after a ghost. But duty came first. They had agreed on that before they made their vows to one another. No matter how much it frustrated them at times, Obi-Wan’s first obligation was to the Order, and Jango’s to the Mando’ade. So Obi-Wan went, grumbling all the way, and on Jabiim, he faced Savage Opress for the first time.

Savage was not as well trained as Maul had been, nor as powerful as the Muun they presumed to be the Sith Master. He was definitely a Darksider though, a fierce fighter who sliced through their lines like a hot knife through butter. He looked like the first Sith too, a Zabrak with sharp black markings and a tall crown of horns. Obi-Wan and Quinlan met him head-on, his furious style reminding Obi-Wan of that fight on Naboo even more than the physical similarities. The same being, he was almost certain, had trained them. Obi-Wan met Savage’s saberstaff with his paired ‘sabers, Quinlan providing support and the ARC troopers covering them. The rest of the battle raged around them, the Force roiling with pain and death.

Despite that it had been some months since he was last on a battlefield, Obi-Wan was among the Jedi most experienced in such situations, having defeated one Sith, then faced another and survived to tell the tale. Quinlan was shortly overwhelmed, and had to drop back to mentally regroup. The ARC troopers covered him capably, and still managed to pepper Opress with shots to keep the Darksider a bit distracted. In the end, it was Opress’ own troops that were his downfall. 

The droids set off an explosion just as Obi-Wan Force-pushed Savage back, and he was caught in the blast and thrown into the air. He impacted hard and laid still, chest rising and falling with the slow cadence of unconsciousness. Their attention now able to turn fully towards the ‘clankers’, the ARC troopers fired at will, turning the Separatist troops into so much scrap metal. Quinlan managed to wrestle a set of Force-inhibiting binders onto Savage, and their small group retreated with their prisoner. 

They were bound for Coruscant, where the Jedi would take custody of Savage as a Darksider, and therefore subject to their authority. Jango - or more likely one of his seconds - would be present when Savage was interrogated to ensure that any strategically useful information went to the right places, but the Haat Mando’ade, Senate, and Chancellery all agreed that rogue Force-users would remain solely within the Jedi’s purview. Judicial simply didn’t have the ability to contain such a prisoner.

Obi-Wan attempted interrogation a few times while they were in transit, and mostly got obdurate silence for his efforts. Despite Opress’ recalcitrance, he did learn a few things. The Muun that Obi-Wan and the Haat Mando’ade had fought on Naboo _was_ the Sith Lord, and was the same shadow master Obi-Wan had theorized about as far back as his mission to Mandalore, sowing discord throughout the galaxy from behind the scenes for decades leading up to the current conflict. Opress hinted too, that there was a Sith on Coruscant itself, the Sith Apprentice, working to unbalance the Republic from within. 

Savage didn’t say anything about the ultimate goal of the Sith, but Obi-Wan could make a few good guesses. Dominion over the known galaxy, and conquest of what was as yet unknown. Subjugation and suffering as they revelled in their every whim. Those seemed to be the goals of every Sith recorded in the Jedi Archives. It was a future Obi-Wan would fight with his every breath. The hint that there was a Sith on Coruscant though - that made a few things seem a little more understandable.

Obi-Wan wasn’t the only Jedi who had thought the Senate made it surprisingly difficult to ensure that the clone troopers were recognized as fully sentient beings, and deserving of rights and remuneration as such. The Senate had to be bullied into ensuring the ‘troopers recognition by Jango, who had reminded them, rather graphically, what tended to happen to the masters of slave armies. That list of massacres, in conjunction with the well-remembered horrors of the Mandalorian Crusades, had ensured the Senate did the right thing, if out of fear in many cases, rather than altruism. 

It shouldn’t have been so difficult to get the Senate to honour the laws of the Republic - laws prohibiting slavery and full-sentient cloning. But then, numerous other laws had gone unenforced, or were only enforced when the outcry was too great to ignore. Unchecked corruption could only account for so much of the insidious lack of empathy the Senate seemed to display in recent years. Manipulation began to make more sense, weighed against the causes left unfunded, and the aide requests left unfulfilled. 

As they hurtled toward Coruscant with their captive, Obi-Wan reported Savage’s capture and their estimated time of arrival at Coruscant to both the Council and GAR command. He waited to share his suspicions about the Sith in person, not wholly convinced that there was a Sith in the Senate, but not wanting to wholly discard the idea either. It certainly didn’t seem an idea outside the realm of the possible, which made it all the more troubling. He would have to speak with all of his contacts very carefully, to see if any of them had noted something that might be of use.

By the time they settled into their approach lane over the glittering ecumenopolis of Coruscant, Obi-Wan had been gone for more than a month. Before Obi-Wan left on his mission, he and Jango had decided on the name Mirah - clever and wise - in honour of Obi-Wan’s late Master, who had been so important to them both. The scheduled date for Jango’s delivery had passed, and Obi-Wan knew from the text messages exchanged that Jango and their ik’aad had come through well. They would hopefully be released from the Halls of Healing by the time Obi-Wan reached the Temple, if everything had gone according to plan.

Obi-Wan carefully kept his excitement tamped down as much as possible, trying to present a professional facade to Quinlan and the vode who travelled with them. It didn’t work in the slightest on Quinlan, who had known Obi-Wan since they were crechelings, and the vode could read Obi-Wan well enough that it was of little use there, either. They all knew, too, just what had Obi-Wan so eager to be home. 

Despite his desire to go straight to Jango, Obi-Wan first delivered their prisoner to the Jedi Temple’s detention levels with Quinlan, then went with him to report to the Council. Silas, who had been left in charge of the army while Jango was on leave, was there via holo since the mission had been assigned under the auspices of both the Jedi Order and the GAR. 

Obi-Wan shared the relevant information he had gleaned from Opress’ largely unhelpful interrogations so far. Only after Silas signed off did Obi-Wan share his belief that there was a Sith highly placed in the Senate., as i It wasn’t actionable intelligence the military could vet, only a suspicion pieced together from hints Savage had let slip and Obi-Wan’s own observations. He would tell Jango too, and let them decide how far that information needed to travel. It wouldn’t do for the Sith to be alerted that the Jedi suspected their presence on Coruscant due to rumours in the military apparatus.

Finally the Council session ended. Hungry, tired, and wanting to see his riduur and meet his ik’aad, Obi-Wan messaged Jango’s healer. Jango and their week old child had been released from the Halls of Healing, Obi-Wan learned, and were settled in Obi-Wan’s apartment. As he traversed the long hallways to the residential wing and his quarters within, it took every bit of Obi-Wan’s will not to just break into a sprint. 

Obi-Wan paused outside his door. He took a deep breath, and laid his hand on the reader, and the door quietly hissed open. Within, an unfamiliar voice was singing softly, a quiet tune ornamented with trilling whistles. 

Stepping quietly inside, Obi-Wan found Jango and Boba on the sofa, Anakin sitting on the floor with his back to the sofa and Jango’s hand carding gently through Anakin’s hair. Jango glanced over as the door hissed closed behind Obi-Wan, smiling sleepily. Boba was utterly unconscious at his father’s side, and the soft singing - well, that was a Togruta with a well-swaddled infant nestled securely in her slender arms. The baby was clearly sleeping, little eyes shut, little mouth open and blowing little spit-bubbles. Obi-Wan was fairly certain he’d never seen anything more precious. Not wanting to startle the Togruta holding his child, Obi-Wan quietly whistled the Togruti greeting he’d learned from Shaak Ti when they were younger. 

The Togruta’s head shot up sharply, and the jerky motion set a short string of silka beads swinging between their lekku. Their face was striking, blue and white montrals and lekku contrasting warm, burnt sienna skin with bright pale markings. Prepubescent, Obi-Wan would guess from the soft roundness of their face and the length of their lekku. They already wore a hunter’s akul tooth headband, and Obi-Wan would bet Shaak had a hand in ensuring this hunter knew the ways of Togruta culture.

“Ori’vod!” Anakin greeted in a carrying whisper, clearly trying not to wake either Boba or the swaddled babe that rested in the Togruta’s slender arms. 

“Su cuy’gar, An’ika,” Obi-Wan greeted warmly, quite pleased to find his closest family together. Anakin stood, crossing to grab Obi-Wan by the forearms and bring their foreheads together in the Mando greeting.

“Obi-Wan, this is Ahsoka Tano,” Anakin introduced, fondness and excitement leaking from him. “She’s my Padawan.” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised Anakin had matched so young, not even a full year into his Knighthood. He gave Ahsoka a warm smile, dipping his head in a more Jedi greeting. 

“Olarom,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Welcome to our family. The armour is optional.” She grinned broadly at that, displaying her fangs and giving him a long slow blink of the eyes. Obi-Wan held her gaze, and blinked back slowly, returning the Togruti extension of trust and welcome. 

“And this,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan held out his hands in silent request. Ahsoka silently obliged, handing the baby over with practiced care. Obi-Wan looked down into a small, round face wrapped in pale sand-coloured swaddling, skin still the flushed pink of very young children. Wispy dark curls peaked from beneath a knit cap - Master Koon’s handiwork if Obi-Wan had to guess.

“Ob’ika,” Jango rasped sleepily, and Obi-Wan crossed to crouch beside the sofa, carefully shifting the little one so they could both look into their face. “This is our Mirah,” Jango introduced. 

“They’re beautiful,” Obi-Wan choked out, his emotions roiling. He leaned into Jango, bringing Mirah securely to his chest. “Jango,” he managed, and Jango swept a hand into his hair, pulling him closer yet. 

“Boba and ‘Soka have both been a big help,” Jango said softly, his hand rubbing gently against Boba’s back where he lay tucked against Jango’s side. Obi-Wan nodded, burying his face in the side of Jango’s neck and weeping with pure, unadulterated joy to be home with them, his ik’aad in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stuff about Stewjoni names is made up wholesale, feel free to use it if you want. Same with the Concord Dawn / Mando naming conventions, although it is based on canon at least a little bit?
> 
> I am being very loose in my creation of a meaning for Jango’s name, with the idea that within the Mando diaspora, words would shift in their meanings over time and distance. In standard Mando’a (aka what I can find on mandoa.org), ‘Jan’ is only found in ‘janad’ which means spicy, and which I am glossing to ‘hot’ even though there’s another word for that (nadala). ‘Go’ and more commonly ‘got’ are used in - a lot of Mando’a words, but many of them relate to metal, creation, and life. I am basing the meaning of Boba = Lucky solely on the fact that Boba chose Lucky as his alias after being orphaned. For Arla, ‘la’ is a common ending, that seems to indicate adjectives. ‘Ar’ is in everything and doesn’t seem to have a meaning to itself - it tends to be part of a larger word, so I just went with ‘who the fuck knows?’
> 
> Mirah’s name was chosen for relation to the Mando’a mirdala (clever, intelligent, intellectual) as an in-universe homage to Jan Dooku, but also from the Slavic Mira (peace, world). 
> 
> **Mando’a:**  
>  Birikad = baby carrying harness.  
> Genet = gray  
> Ik’aad = a child under three  
> Meshgeroya = limmie or bolo-ball, literally the *beautiful game,* a Mandalorian obsession  
> Mird = from mirdala, clever, intelligent, intellectual  
> Olarom = welcome (as a greeting)


	16. Chapter 16

The next weeks were both wondrous and exhausting. Everything about Mirah was, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, the most amazing thing in creation. But Mirah also squalled when tired, or gassy, or hungry, or wet, or simply, it seemed, because they felt like it. Between Jango and Obi-Wan, and occasional help from Anakin, Boba, and Ahsoka, and even from some of the other Jedi and Mando’ade, they managed to settle into a schedule.

Obi-Wan took the night feedings at first. Even with bacta, a surgical delivery took time to heal, and Jango was on his back for much of the first few weeks. Myles and Silas were constantly in and out, both just to visit and spend time with them, and to consult Jango on the war, which they were directing while Jango was on leave. Even when they couldn’t come in person, Jango spent most of his waking hours on the comm with GAR command and reviewing datapads. 

The mental exercise was a blessing. Enforced physical inactivity made Jango irritable, and sometimes his temper and Mirah’s would feed off one another, Jango’s annoyance making Mirah cry, Mirah’s crying worsening Jango’s mood. Obi-Wan tried to avert those spirals of discontent by taking Mirah on walks through the Temple, introducing them to the small world of the Order.

Once Jango could get up and walk, he would join them on their adventures, building his stamina back up. As Jango was able to do more physically, Obi-Wan picked up more work for the army, his own stack of datapads growing day-by-day. Even when they were working those first weeks, Mirah would be nestled against one of their chests. Mirah napped a great deal, but also didn’t sleep through the night, running both parents ragged. They took to dozing whenever Mirah did, grabbing a few minutes here, an hour there. Boba took to sleeping in Anakin and Ahsoka’s apartment some nights, just to get in a restful sleep. 

Even before his full parental leave was over, Jango could be found roaming the command center as Obi-Wan had imagined him, Mirah in a birikad on his chest. Mirah was too young to understand the tensions in the room, although they fussed and grizzled when tempers ran higher than usual. There was no question Mirah was Force-sensitive, even at a few months old, and while Jango was growing ever more sure that he wouldn’t be surrendering custody any time soon, he was definitely planning to take advantage of the creche and the basics of Jedi training available there once Mirah was a little older. It would be good for Mirah, he understood, to be with other Force-sensitive ik’aad’e at times, to help Mirah learn how to control and utilize their abilities.

Obi-Wan followed Jango back to work, much to the relief of the adjutants who worked closest with the Mand’alor. Evidently, Obi-Wan learned, Jango had worked almost up until his delivery date, although in increasingly short temper. Somehow, Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly surprised. Jango wanted the war over as much as anyone. While it could be argued that Jango had gained a great deal by accepting his position at the head of the GAR, Obi-Wan knew his riduur hadn’t been looking for that type of power and notoriety. Jango would have been perfectly happy to settle with his clan, taking work as needed and raising their children, defending Mandalore and its people. 

While they had been on leave, the Shadows had got a mountain of information out of Savage Opress. It had taken some doing, and Obi-Wan didn’t want to know exactly what methods they’d employed. While Opress hadn’t named any names, the Shadows now had some possible locations to search for the Sith working with the Separatists. Teams of Shadows backed by ARC troopers were already speeding toward those locations, knowing that there was a time limit on anything Opress said, and hoping to catch out the mysterious Muun that Obi-Wan and Jango had faced on Naboo so many years ago. 

Obi-Wan was more than content to remain on Coruscant while the hunters sought their prey, even if that often meant spending his days soothing the tempers of self-important Senators. He had told the Shadows all he could of the Sith years before, and felt he was of more use as Jango’s liaison with the Senate and Chancellery. The war, despite Jango’s efforts, was increasingly unpopular, and Chancellor Zar’s ratings were tanking along with the number of citizens in favour of the war, despite that the GAR was victorious in the majority of their battles. 

It was perhaps no great surprise, given they postulated that the Sith was part of the Separatist movement, that Jango and the Haat Mando’ade began hearing chatter of an assassination contract on Chancellor Zar in the bounty hunting community. Thankfully, Jango’s reputation was still strong enough despite his years of absence that most bounty hunters of any skill were avoiding the contract. No one wanted to piss Jango off by going after the man who was paying Jango’s contract. Doing so would certainly earn Jango’s ire, and most of Jango’s former compatriots in the bounty-hunting profession were wise enough to stay on his good side. 

Jango talked quietly to his contacts, his old friends, their friends, and quite a few disreputable characters. Eventually, Jango knew, _someone_ would accept the contract - especially since the promised compensation kept escalating. It would be in their best interest, Jango briefed Chancellor Zar, if they controlled who took the contract. Zar could see the wisdom in that, and left the matter in Jango’s hands. Jango called his old friends back, and gave them very strict instructions: accept the contract if it was offered. Then ensure the attempt on the Chancellor’s life failed. 

When Chancellor Zar returned to Sern Prime for one of his homeworld’s festivals a few months after Mirah’s birth, he was trailed by Cad Bane, Rako Hardeen, and a handful of other bounty hunters. Bane and Hardeen were Jango’s agents on the inside - Bane and Jango had been mutually respected if not entirely friendly acquaintances in the past, and Hardeen, while not Haat Mando’ade himself, was a sympathizer from Concord Dawn, Jango’s homeworld. For additional compensation, the two hunters were willing to double cross the Separatists and make sure the assassination fell short of its intended outcome.

Obi-Wan was a bit hesitant about employing bounty hunters, especially ones with reputations as bloody as Bane and Hardeen. Bane had carved a swath through the Outer Rim in the past few years, and seemed to specialize in antagonizing the Jedi. Hardeen’s reputation wasn’t much cleaner, his skill set heavily weighted toward assassinations. 

Jango pointed out they had to make do with the tools at hand, and Obi-Wan conceded to his pragmatism. Were Bane and Hardeen men that Jango would want around his ad’e? Not by a long shot. But they had at least a hint of professional ethics, and they also understood that, new parent or not, Jango would hunt them down and pull their lungs out through their noses if they double-crossed him. In the end, Bane and Hardeen were the only survivors of the five-being assassination squad. The Chancellor was unharmed, and Bane and Hardeen were soon paid off and strongly encouraged to make themselves scarce. Obi-Wan was confident they’d surface before too long to cause trouble, but at least there might be a bit of a reprieve in the interim.

That was unlikely to be the last attempt at the Chancellor’s life, and while most were easily handled by the Senatorial Centurions and the clones who made up the Coruscant Guard, Anakin wasn’t the only Jedi on long term protection detail. Senator Palpatine went almost nowhere without his hulking Jedi bodyguard Pong Krell, and other Jedi were constantly in and out of the Senate. It was something of a fad, Obi-Wan understood from his conversations with Bail Organa - Senators liked the purported prestige of having a Jedi bodyguard. As a result, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been too surprised if some of the threats reported were more than a little exaggerated. The Jedi did their due diligence when accepting security details, and when threats were found to be less than credible, protection for those Senators was turned over the the Senatorial Centurions or Coruscant Guard. 

Still, it wouldn’t be the Jedi way to ignore such threats entirely, and so the trend continued. Obi-Wan was rather pleased that, due to his role as GAR liaison, he wasn’t available for bodyguard duty himself. He already had to interact with politicians far more than he preferred. There were very few Obi-Wan actually respected, nevermind liked. Thankfully, there were a few like Bail Organa that he could work with, and who he could trust to work in the best interest of the Republic.

With the backing of Bail’s voting bloc, Obi-Wan was able to not only ensure that the troops continued to be properly outfitted, but that their hard-won salaries and rights weren’t chipped away at and pocketed by the more corrupt elements in the government. The Delegation of 2000 also worked to ensure aide made its way through to the war-torn worlds being contested between Republic and Separatist forces. Committee meetings in the dome were interminable, but at least Obi-Wan often saw Anakin and Ahsoka there, Anakin looming at Padmé’s shoulder as she advocated for resettlement funds, travel vouchers, food aide, and other causes integral to the mission of the Refugee Relief Movement. 

Obi-Wan had been impressed with Padmé as a Queen, and amused by Anakin’s unrelieved adoration of her. But her politics were what ensured Obi-Wan’s respect for Padmé, although she did tend to be rather idealistic. She had served her people well as Queen for years before taking up the cause of the many refugees throughout the Republic, and advocating strongly for galaxy-wide abolition of slavery. 

Given the Naboo had tried to cast down the term limits Padmé herself had enacted to grant her a third term as monarch, Obi-Wan was a little surprised she hadn’t been vaulted onto the galactic stage as Senator. It seemed that Palpatine retained a good enough reputation on his homeworld to prevent his ouster. Instead, Padmé worked with Bail with some frequency, his legislative record testament to his support of unilateral abolition of slavery as well as his commitment to benevolent aide and continued efforts to bring the war to a close. 

The longer the fighting continued, the more the Senate polarized between those like Bail who advocated exploring diplomatic avenues, and the more warlike faction, who advocated for atrocities of every nature. Given how unpopular the war already was, Obi-Wan was certain that ramping up military production and building more powerful weapons would only further distance the Separatists from the Republic, and incite further disapproval from Republic citizens. Despite that, Bail’s attempts to find a diplomatic path couldn’t seem to gain traction.

Month after month, the war dragged on. While he was glad he wasn’t in the fighting himself, and knew he was helping Jango a great deal, Obi-Wan did occasionally feel as if he could be doing _more_. At the same time, Obi-Wan didn’t want to shift positions so that he was being sent out of the Temple frequently, not while Mirah was still so young.

Despite his preferences, eventually the Council had a mission that Obi-Wan simply couldn’t refuse.

When mutterings of young Force-sensitives going missing began surfacing, the Jedi were duty-bound to investigate. At first, it was younglings not yet dedicated to the Temple, taken from their parents and guardians. But then Initiates on learning excursions began to go missing too. Some might argue the Order didn’t have the jurisdiction to search out children not yet in their care, but they could certainly send out Knights after their own lost younglings. Obi-Wan was tasked with discovering if the kidnappings were linked to known Separatist agents, or if someone was merely taking advantage of the Jedi being spread so thin to acquire vulnerable Force-sensitives. 

Most of the missing younglings were recovered by Jedi searchers assigned to the task. Anakin’s own Padawan was kidnapped, nearly driving Anakin mad with worry, but thankfully, Ahsoka rescued herself before long, with the assistance of a Wookiee named Chewbacca and a group of Jedi Initiates already captive on Wasskah. From Ahsoka’s report when she got back to the Temple, it seemed her abduction had been chance, the Trandoshans who kidnapped her and the other Initiates solely interested in the challenge of hunting Force-sensitive sentients, rather than due to their political stance on the war. 

Searching for information on how their Initiates had been targeted led to evidence of even darker deeds - hints of the Sith they had hunted for so long. Obi-Wan knew he was likely taking his life in his hands when he accepted the mission to once more hunt the Sith. He accepted nonetheless. He wanted his child to grow up in a galaxy free from fear, and he would readily give his own life for that purpose. Jango wasn’t exactly thrilled, but he understood the sentiment.

Obi-Wan deployed with a group of ARC ‘troopers trained by Jango’s Alpha class. They were younger than the Alpha ARCs, and in some ways it showed. Despite their youth, they were more than competent, and good company to boot. The four of them, Obi-Wan soon learned, had been trained together. Ponds was the eldest, and he, Bly, Wolffe, and Cody were batchmates as well as squadmates. They had been engineered and trained to be officers, and went back and forth between commanding large sections of the army and running high-risk missions like the ones they undertook with Obi-Wan. 

Their progress was slow, but eventually a tip - from Cad Bane himself, in a rare moment of conscience - led them to an abandoned castle on an unlisted lava planet where a nursery held a half-dozen miserable Force-sensitive younglings. The troopers destroyed the droid attendants and downloaded what information they could, Obi-Wan shaking off his paternal horror to blanket the younglings in his welcoming presence. It was clear the Sith had been there recently, and had a nefarious agenda utilizing the innocent beings. But it would take time to de-crypt and analyze the data recovered. Time they might not have. Obi-Wan contented himself with the knowledge that the younglings would be safe soon. 

After a detour to Coruscant to drop off their young charges in the Jedi Temple’s creche, Obi-Wan and his squad headed back out, chasing shadows while GAR intelligence and Jedi slicers went through the data from the Sith’s outpost. Following the data, Obi-Wan and the clones - vode, they called themselves - found numerous other bases, all abandoned. In most, there wasn’t even data left behind, only dust and droids. 

Eventually, an informant passed word of Hego Damask, who the Jedi were now fairly certain was the Sith Lord Obi-Wan had met on Naboo, operating on the fortified Banking Clan world of Mygeeto in the Outer Rim. Republic forces had tried repeatedly to take Mygeeto since the beginning of the war, understanding that if they could occupy one of the Banking Clan’s mine worlds, they might be able to starve the Separatists of funds for war machines. 

With the sighting of Damask, Republic forces began building up their presence, and for the first time since giving birth, Jango left Coruscant. Capturing Damask was just too important to leave to his seconds, no matter how much Jango trusted them. Mirah was placed temporarily in the creche, and the Mand’alor and his personal guard of Alpha ARCs were soon present in the Albarrio Sector. Obi-Wan was happy to see his riduur after months of separation, and even put up with the teasing of his squad, who he’d become more than a little fond of as they hunted together.

Breaking through the ranks of warships protecting Mygeeto took time, even with the myriad wings of Mando pilots throwing themselves at the blockade in their Kom’rk and Fang starfighters. Obi-Wan knew as the space battle began that they would likely find a situation similar to the other Sith outposts - an abandoned base, defunct equipment, perhaps some fragmented information on whatever experiments Damask was carrying out. The ultimate goal, of course, would be to capture or eliminate Damask, but Obi-Wan was aware that was unlikely. Nonetheless, if they could find solid evidence of his nature or perhaps a link to his collaborator in the Republic, it would be a terrific boon.

The blockade was still partially in effect when Obi-Wan and his squad reached the surface of Mygeeto, having slipped through the sensornets without detection. While Damask Holding had technically been rolled into the larger InterGalactic Banking Clan some years previous, Obi-Wan intended to search any property he could find that was linked to either the company, or to the Damask family. In the records, only Hego II still lived, but Obi-Wan was well aware how easily records could be forged or changed by someone with as much power as Hego Damask.

The first few properties they searched were bare save deactivated droids and dust. Obi-Wan was beginning to think their informant had been mistaken, until they found a subsidiary held by a shell company held by a trust. On the surface, it appeared to be a lab for testing and authenticating industrial quality crystals. With so much of the Mygeeto economy depending on mining and its byproducts, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been surprised if the facility had truly once served that purpose. 

The building reeked of the Dark side and something else that set Obi-Wan on edge, raising his hopes that they might find something of strategic value within. Sensitive to the moods of their Jetii, the ARC troopers grew even more alert as they traversed the seemingly-abandoned labs. While the upper levels were conspicuously empty, Obi-Wan felt there was more to the property. It took a little hunting, but soon enough they found a hidden back entrance leading into a retrofitted mine. The lights were still on, and if it were possible, they all would have grown more wary yet.

They found rooms abandoned in a hurry, droids hastily deactivated. The deeper they went down, the more clear it became that they had stumbled on something the Sith wished to remain unseen. And then they found the first body. The being was nearly mummified, and from the myriad wounds on the corpse, had clearly been tortured, but Obi-Wan still recognized him: Master Sifo-Dyas, his own Master’s contemporary and friend, whose disappearance Master Dooku had investigated for years. Obi-Wan wondered if Master Sifo-Dyas had died alone here under the Sith’s machinations, and shuddered. 

“If we can, this body should be brought back with us to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said quietly over their in-helmet comms. “He was a Jedi.” The troopers nodded slightly, their shoulders bunching slightly in wary tension. 

“Should I be collecting data?” Wolffe asked as they passed back out into the corridors. 

“Normally I’d say yes, but I don’t want us to split up,” Obi-Wan said grimly. “No one separates from the group. No one gets left behind.” 

“Lek,” the troopers chorused back almost in unison. Obi-Wan nodded, and they moved on. Their findings only got more grim from there. Bodies of animals and beings who had clearly been experimented on, vivisected and left to die in agony. Obi-Wan shuddered in revulsion. The Force was _quivering_ with distress and anticipation. 

Deeper and deeper they went, dreading each new horror they would find. One room contained cages of animals unlike anything Obi-Wan had ever seen before, the Force shuddering with wrongness around them. One of the vode paused and took off his helmet to vomit when they found the twisted body of one of their brothers who had clearly been experimented on, cybernetics blinking against cadaverously pale flesh. 

“We’ll come back for him,” Obi-Wan promised, rather wanting to vomit himself. It wasn’t truly a promise he could make, but if they were going to carry Sifo-Dyas’ mortal frame out of here and ensure he had the proper funerary rites, the ‘trooper deserved the same honours.

“Ni partayli, gar darasuum,” one of the troopers rasped out over the body. They moved on. They had to keep moving. 

Finally they could go no deeper, unless the last laboratory hid another way down. Carefully they opened that last door, not sure what they would find within, not sure they wanted to learn. The lab was dim at first, the lights guttering. As they stepped in, the lights began to brighten, working off some type of sensor. 

There was a body laid out on an examination table, not unlike scenes they had found above. But here - there was the barest flicker of life in the Force. Obi-Wan darted forward, then stopped short, staring in horror as he recognized the still form. 

Jan. Barely recognizable. But _Jan_. Alive. Barely. But alive. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan gasped out, and rushed the rest of the way to the table, shrugging off Cody’s cautioning hand. Dooku was emaciated; his withered frame bore clear marks of torture. Lightning trees bloomed red and purple beneath crepe-thin skin gone faintly yellow with jaundice. One of his arms was amputated at mid biceps, the stump badly scarred and misshapen. From the scarring on his torso and legs, he’d clearly been nearly eaten alive by something with very sharp teeth and claws. _Nexu_ , Obi-Wan’s memory supplied, remembering Mace Windu’s strained tones as he related the barest details of Jan’s supposed execution. Even worse than the physical damage, Jan’s Force-presence was all but gone. 

“Ad?” Jan barely managed to rasp out, clouded eyes skittering from shadow to shadow. Obi-Wan gently grasped hold of skeletal fingers, pressing Jan’s remaining hand to the metal of his chest plate. 

“Elek, buir,” Obi-Wan choked out in Mando’a. “Ni cuyi.” 

“Ad,” Jan breathed, a thin, bloody smile blossoming across his gaunt face. His breath rattled in his chest, cracked lips oozing blood into his scraggly beard and moustache. As much as Obi-Wan would have liked to deny it, it was clear Jan didn’t have much strength left. 

“We’ll get you out of here, buir,” Obi-Wan promised. Already the others had begun carefully going through the room, slicing what data they could from the servers and pocketing ‘chips and ‘pads. 

“Sith,” Jan grit out.

“We know,” Obi-Wan promised. They hadn’t been expecting to find Jan at all, just another abandoned laboratory full of half-destroyed experiments left to moulder when the Sith moved on. Jan was supposed to be dead, years dead, killed at the outset of the war that now engulfed the Republic. “The Muun?” Obi-Wan asked, just to be sure they meant the same being. 

“Damask,” Jan identified. “Likes to experiment.” Obi-Wan grimaced. That much had become clear. For all the Jedi prized knowledge, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he wanted to know just what Damask was trying to discover or determine. Especially now that he knew that Jan had been the subject of some of that experimentation. Obi-Wan dreaded finding out just what had been done to his Master. 

Even as Obi-Wan loosed the last restraint from Jan’s skeletal form, a wave of livid Dark energy roiled down over them. Obi-Wan turned, half-expecting what he would see. A tall, robed form stood in the doorway, heavy mechanical breathing filling the air. It could be no one but the Sith, Obi-Wan felt. He faced his nemesis, his lightsabers hissing as he activated them. 

“I should have known it would be you, Kenobi,” Damask rasped through his transpirator. He stepped forward, revealing himself to be a tall Muun with elongated features, the lower half of his face hidden behind his breathing device. It connected about his upper torso, and from the bulk, Obi-Wan was sure it would be armoured. 

“Magister Damask,” Obi-Wan greeted, dipping his head but not taking his eyes off the Sith for a moment. 

“Plagueis,” Jan hissed behind Obi-Wan, revealing the Sith’s chosen name. Obi-Wan flicked his eye inside his buy’ce, activating his recording system and hopefully relaying a live feed to the _Mythosaur_ in orbit above.

Damask let out a thin, unamused laugh, then raised a long-fingered hand and threw lightning at them. The troopers wisely scattered. Obi-Wan caught the wave of electricity on his blades, and advanced. It seemed the Sith no longer bothered with a lightsaber even for show, fighting only with the Force. It would hinder Obi-Wan - he was unpracticed against those who fought solely with that ineffable energy. 

As if to prove the point, Damask - Plagueis - broke off the lightning attack and used an emphatic Force shove to throw Obi-Wan across the room. His beskar’gam clanged resoundingly off the wall, as he was unable to break free from the wave of energy before impact. For a moment, he choked, an inexorable pressure tightening around his throat. The troopers unleashed a wave of blasterfire, Cody and Wolffe powering on their jetbacks despite the contained space to gain an elevated angle of attack. 

Plagueis let Obi-Wan go, lashing out with another wave of the Force, this time sending the troopers bowling over one another and into the walls. Obi-Wan bounded forward, enhancing his speed with the Force, skidding between the troopers and Plagueis. The Muun hissed in surprise as Obi-Wan attacked with energetic Ataru. He’d been cross-training all the lightsaber forms while stationed in the Temple, and while Soresu was his style of choice, he was more than proficient in all save Vaapad.

Obi-Wan had to fight with everything he was to hold his own against Plagueis, even with help from the troopers. He used both his lightsabers and every scrap of the Force he could grasp hold of to keep the Sith at bay. When he couldn’t block Plagueis’ attacks fully, thankfully Obi-Wan’s beskar’gam was sturdy enough to prevent some of the damage the Sith tried to inflict. Still, Obi-Wan knew that it would be in his best interests to ensure the fight ended as soon as possible. If the duel lasted very long, he and the troopers would likely die, and leave Jan to this Sith’s evil designs. 

It was that thought, of protecting his beloved buir, that gave Obi-Wan the strength to continue. The Force was riotous in his head, Dark and Light clashing on the metaphysical plane even as Obi-Wan threw his body forward in the mortal realm. The beleaguered Light, so long beaten down in this place, swelled in concert with Obi-Wan’s determination.

Obi-Wan’s bright blue blade seared through the shadows, and Plagueis went down, transpirator hitching and hissing as Obi-Wan’s lightsaber severed crucial connections. Swiftly, Obi-Wan detached the Force suppressing restraints from his utility belt and secured the Muun’s thin wrists. 

“No,” Plagueis hissed, struggling. Obi-Wan did his best to still the long, flailing limbs, but despite his age and apparent frailty, the Sith was not weak. Plagueis jerked sharply, then let out a rasping, choked laugh and twitched weakly, suffocating as the transpirator failed and his airway collapsed.

“Kriff,” Obi-Wan swore vehemently. He started chest compressions, well aware of the irony of trying to save the Sith Lord he’d just been duelling. But if Plagueis could be interrogated they would be closer to finding the Sith in the Senate. With the heavy machinery of the armoured breathing apparatus in the way, there was little Obi-Wan could do. Plagueis passed into the Force laughing, knowing he had thwarted the Jedi and furthered the plans for Sith dominion, at least for a little longer.

“Sir, I’ve got the Marines on long range sensors, seems the Mand’alor punched through and sent us some backup,” Ponds reported. 

“Alright,” Obi-Wan sighed tiredly, standing and staring at the tangled limbs of the Sith. “Scrub this place of any data you can find. Are the Marines sending a medevac or just reinforcements? The first would be much more useful.” Wolffe snorted, but kept his opinion to himself - they all already knew it anyway - it was no secret he didn’t think Marines were terribly useful.

“Medevac is with them,” Ponds affirmed after a moment. Obi-Wan nodded, then crossed back to Jan, tugging off his buy’ce and bowing down to brush his forehead against his old Master’s. 

“Sidious,” Jan rasped out. His breath rattled deep in his chest, and Obi-Wan’s heart ached. Had he found his Master again just to lose him once more? 

“What about him?” Obi-Wan asked gently, catching up Jan’s hand in his, holding those thin, bony fingers to his chestplate.

“Pal - Palpatine,” Jan said, voice low and thin. “Of Naboo.” Obi-Wan’s heart chilled even as he nodded. 

“Sidious is Palpatine of Naboo?” Obi-Wan asked, just to be sure. Jan nodded weakly, and Obi-Wan could feel the old man’s strength failing. “Rest Master, I’ll watch over you,” Obi-Wan promised, his own voice thick with emotion. Jan nodded again, and settled. Obi-Wan kept hold of his hands, his entire focus on the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Jan’s too thin chest. 

Obi-Wan carried Jan up out of the labs himself, walking in a daze with his troopers around him. The Marines took custody of the bodies, including Plagueis and Sifo-Dyas. It wasn’t until a medic tried to take Jan from him that Obi-Wan fully zoned back in. He nearly snarled at the medic before realizing he was in an active landing zone. Blinking rapidly, Obi-Wan surrendered Jan to the medics, then stepped back to get his mind into the game. Mygeeto was still an active theater of war, and while his priority mission of finding the Sith Lord had been accomplished, there was still much to be done. 

Turning, Obi-Wan soon found the vod in command of the Marines charged with the ground assault, a steady Commander named Bacara. Cody and Bly were with him - evidently he was another of their batchmates, and had been trained up with them under the Alpha ARCs. It didn’t take long for Bacara to send Obi-Wan back up to the _Mythosaur_ and Jango. Obi-Wan didn’t even fight the order. He wanted his riduur. He wanted his buir. 

Obi-Wan let Ponds lead him to one of the drop ships, and he rode up with the injured who were headed to the infirmary. Someone - likely Ponds - had commed ahead to Jango, and the Mand’alor was there in the landing bay to meet them, to sweep Obi-Wan into his arms. Obi-Wan leaned into Jango’s firm hold, resting heavily against his riduur for a few moments. 

“Ni kyr’tayl,” Jango’s voice came soft and thick over their private comm channel. “Kaysh morut’yc.” Obi-Wan let himself fall apart at that, leaning his full weight into Jango, head resting on that broad shoulder. “Morut’gar.” When Obi-Wan could breathe again through the iron band around his heart, he let Jango lead him through the massive battleship to the infirmary. 

The medics were prepping Jan for a full immersion in bacta when Obi-Wan and Jango arrived, and a Jedi Healer was with them. Obi-Wan was certain he’d never been so relieved to see the familiar blue robes of the Healers in his life. Jan caught his eye, and smiled weakly even as a breathing mask was strapped to his face. Obi-Wan’s old Master looked even worse in the bright light of the infirmary, but Obi-Wan’s heart thrilled to see him. 

Jan reached up, trying to tug off the mask so he could speak. The Healer, a Pantoran with curling gold marks on his forehead and cheeks, pulled Jan’s hand away, gently chiding the aged Master. Jan glared weakly, and satisfied himself with signing at Obi-Wan in abbreviated Mando handtalk. Obi-Wan smiled tiredly at the sharp, jittery gestures, his Master assuring him that Jan would be okay, that they would talk soon. He signed back his agreement, his love, his joy at seeing Jan again, alive. 

“Cuy’gar, drashaar dralshy’a, akaanir nakar’tuur,” Obi-Wan encouraged, nearly choking up. Jan nodded sharply, and then the Healer was putting him under with a sleep suggestion so he could be moved into the tank. 

“Come on,” Jango urged gently after a little longer, and Obi-Wan let himself be led back to their quarters. Jango gently stripped them both of their armour, then tucked Obi-Wan into their bunk before preparing some shig. Obi-Wan dazedly accepted the steaming mug, blinking rapidly when the steam fogged in his face and he burnt his tongue on the hot drink. 

“Force, Jango,” Obi-Wan breathed, and Jango rapidly grabbed the shig back before it tumbled from Obi-Wan’s fingers. “Has - he’s been in the Sith’s hands this whole time, and we never knew, never _imagined_ he was anything but dead. When you were gone, we could convince ourselves, reassure each other that we would find you, that you were still alive out there. But with Jan - we never even thought to look. We _knew_ he was dead.” Jango said nothing, just joined Obi-Wan on the bunk and wrapped his arms tightly around Obi-Wan. The idea of any of their family - and they both had very large families - in the hands of the enemy was devastating. They also had no way to keep it from happening again.

“Ni cuyi,” Jango reassured, and Obi-Wan turned into him, burying his face in Jango’s shoulder and weeping quietly. Jango held him until the tears passed, then gently thumbed the wetness from his cheeks. “Cool flannel?” Jango suggested, and Obi-Wan nodded. Jango rose, padding to the fresher to wet a face-cloth. When he returned, Obi-Wan was sipping at his tepid shig. 

“Vor’e,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and Jango gently tipped up his chin to wipe his tear splotched face. 

“Naas,” Jango returned, setting aside the cloth and then sitting at Obi-Wan’s side. “We have a pretty good block of time in hyperspace, you should probably rest.” 

Obi-Wan tensed a little, always disliking being told what to do. He relaxed a moment later, knowing that Jango only mentioned it out of concern. And he _was_ tired, despite that the shig was a mild stimulant. He hummed equivocally, and Jango snorted, then took away the mug and rose. Obi-Wan grumbled under his breath, but curled into the blankets. When Jango came back from the fresher, Obi-Wan was resting, if not yet sleeping. 

Jango smiled fondly, then stepped out into the corridor so he didn’t disturb Obi-Wan while he commed one of the other officers and let them know to direct all business to his personal frequency. Settling into the small desk in their quarters, Jango picked up one of the datapads and worked quietly while Obi-Wan settled into sleep. Occasionally Obi-Wan would shift in his sleep, and Jango would look over, seeing if he needed to wake his riduur from a nightmare, or if he was just restless. He worked his way through a few reports before Obi-Wan stirred with more intent. 

“Jango?” Obi-Wan called, voice thick with sleep. 

“Olar,” Jango called back softly.

“K’olar,” Obi-Wan said, holding out his hand. Jango shook his head, but went, taking off his boots and settling into the bed at Obi-Wan’s side with a pad in his hand. Obi-Wan turned into Jango’s warmth, and settled back down. Jango finished the datapad he was working on and set it aside, glancing over at his full desk, then at his sleeping riduur. With a sigh, he burrowed down into the bed, curling around Obi-Wan and letting his eyes close. 

Obi-Wan woke hours later, half-pinned under Jango’s bulk. He debated getting up, then just burrowed closer. His motion, though small, was enough to wake Jango, who nuzzled into his cheek. Obi-Wan shifted, pressing their mouths together in the kiss he knew Jango was seeking. They kissed slow and easy, trading breaths between them. 

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum,” Obi-Wan murmured, needing to affirm their love verbally, needing it heard.

“Ni kyr’tayl,” Jango returned, and Obi-Wan huffed, leaning in to kiss him again. The kisses Jango returned were chaste at first, but as they shared warmth and comfort, need began to bleed through. It wasn’t so much simple lust as desire for reassurance, Jango’s need to see with his own eyes that Obi-Wan had once more returned to him whole and safe. 

“Lek,” Obi-Wan breathed, and rolled onto his back, pulling Jango over on top of him. 

Jango grunted softly, but knelt up, pulling off his undershirt. Beneath him in the bunk, Obi-Wan wriggled out of his own underclothes. They both shuddered when Jango laid back down, reveling in the slide of bare skin as they kissed again. Hands mapped familiar bodies, and then Jango was kissing his way down Obi-Wan’s lean form, kissing and teasing all the familiar places that set Obi-Wan’s pulse racing.

“Lek, lek,” Obi-Wan gasped out as Jango bit gently in the soft crease between his thigh and torso, then nosed against his thickening cock. On the way out to Mygeeto they’d been focused on the mission, not in the mood for intimacy. Now, the warmth and moisture of Jango’s breath ghosting over his skin had Obi-Wan hardening. He reached down, scrubbing his fingers gently into Jango’s curls. 

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum,” Jango murmured, parting Obi-Wan’s legs and then licked up the underside of Obi-Wan’s shaft and swirled his tongue around the head. Obi-Wan let out a wordless shout of pleasure, curling his shoulders over Jango’s bowed head. 

“Ne’johaa!” Obi-Wan grit out, wanting Jango’s mouth on him, not talking. 

With a soft chuckle, Jango took Obi-Wan into his mouth, sucking gently. Obi-Wan moaned, falling back against the bed. Jango bobbed his head slowly up and down, drawing out Obi-Wan’s pleasure. Wanting to entice Obi-Wan back to sleep, Jango didn’t tease for too long, pressing down to take Obi-Wan to the root and swallowing around his cock. Obi-Wan mewled softly, and it didn’t take long for him to come, relaxing as Jango slowly pulled off, licking him clean.

“K’olar,” Obi-Wan urged, and Jango leaned up, resting his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. “Ner cyare,” he murmured, tilting his head to kiss Jango, tasting himself on his riduur’s lips. “Gedet’ye.”

“Lek,” Jango affirmed, kissing Obi-Wan again and then reaching out blindly, fumbling under the pillow for the lube. When he found the little tube, he dispensed a generous amount on Obi-Wan’s belly, earning a soft noise of dismay. Jango grinned, swiping his fingers through the slick and then reaching down to gently tease Obi-Wan’s hole. Obi-Wan growled softly, shifting slightly to kick Jango in the flank. Jango let out a soft chuckle, then pressed two fingers into Obi-Wan and began to open him up. 

Obi-Wan moaned, soft and eager. Coupling like this had become familiar, but it was that very familiarity Obi-Wan desired now, not just the physical release of orgasm. His body, relaxed with sleep and pleasure, opened easily to Jango’s ministrations, and soon Jango was sheathing himself in Obi-Wan, a soft rumble of pleasure in his broad chest. Obi-Wan lifted his arms, rubbing his hands over Jango’s shoulders and then stroking gently at the nape of his neck even as he grasped Jango’s waist between his thighs. 

“Ner riduur,” Jango rumbled in quiet affirmation, and slowly fucked into Obi-Wan, kissing him almost constantly. Everything was warmth now, their bodies rubbing together, every gasping breath passed between their mouths. Jango came with a sigh, hips rocking gently into Obi-Wan’s. “Gar ganayc,” he murmured, and kissed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan kissed back slow and sleepy. 

Relaxed and content after he cleaned them up a bit, Jango settled into the bed, again curling around Obi-Wan’s frame. Obi-Wan let out a soft sound of contentment, languid with pleasure. Jango drifted off with his mouth pressed gently to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his hands resting possessively on Obi-Wan’s chest. 

When Obi-Wan woke hours later, Jango was already at the desk again, a small holoprojector letting him direct the ground and space forces by comm without leaving Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan smiled, and rose. Jango glanced over, and quirked his mouth slightly in a faint smile of greeting. 

“I’ve already let the Council know you pulled Jan out of that pit, they want a word with you,” Jango said. Obi-Wan grimaced. He should have contacted the Council as soon as Jan was safely in the bacta tank. 

“I’ll call them as soon as I’m functional,” Obi-Wan said, and padded to the ‘fresher to wash up. He quickly got cleaned up and dressed, and he and Jango exited their quarters together, headed for the bridge. Jango was soon deep in conference with his officers, leaving Obi-Wan to his business. The first call Obi-Wan placed was to the infirmary, to get an update on Jan’s health and to warn the Healer that he was about the comm the Council, and they would likely want a word with the Healer too. 

Mace answered the hail to the Temple, and Obi-Wan gave the Master of the Order a grim smile in greeting. Shortly the other Councilors were all present via holo, their little blue figures flickering across the distance. Obi-Wan gave a detailed report on the base, and what he and the ‘troopers had found there. He told them about the experiments, and the bodies, and finding Jan. He told them about fighting Darth Plagueis, and how the Muun refused to be taken alive. The identification of Palpatine of Naboo as Darth Sidious, he kept secret while speaking over the military frequencies - that was news to be shared in person, or if not in person, in the most secure manner possible. While the GAR comms were well encrypted, a Senator sitting on committees dealing with military appropriations like Palpatine did could easily access GAR communiques.

The Council debated briefly, then directed Obi-Wan to remain aboard the _Mythosaur_ with Jan. The massive warship had one of the most extensive medical suites in the fleet, and it would be better for Jan to be treated there than to transport him to Coruscant on a different ship. So Jan remained unconscious in bacta, Obi-Wan visiting him daily and meditating in front of the tank, reaching out in the Force to see if he could help his Master heal while the _Mythosaur_ finished overseeing the taking of Mygeeto. 

Aware that Jan’s information needed to be passed to the Council through some manner other than GAR comms, Obi-Wan spelled out his Master’s accusations against Palpatine in text. He wrote in Mando’a, then layered every encryption the Jedi Order had come up with over the files before sending them over his personal frequency to his friend Bant, with a plain-text instruction to deliver the encrypted file to her former Master. Kit Fisto was fairly newly raised to the High Council, and passing the data through Bant was the safest compromise Obi-Wan could think of on short notice. He knew that the Councillors would probably think that amount of security overkill until they translated the document, but the information needed to be shared, needed to be known by more than just him. While the _Mythosaur_ was a well-armed and armoured vessel, it wasn’t unreasonable to fear death while in an active warzone. 

As Obi-Wan and the Jedi had thought, Hego Damask II, now revealed as the Sith Lord Plagueis, had been the one propping up much of the Separatist fight, both on Mygeeto and elsewhere. With Plagueis removed, the InterGalactic Banking Clan on Mygeeto folded like a Corellian with a bad Sabacc hand. The Marines were pressing forward and easily taking their objectives with more than sufficient assistance from the various flight squadrons of vode and Mando’ade flying support under the direction of Jango’s trusted Haat Mando’ade. They’d soon have complete control of Mygeeto and its wealth of resources.

Finally, a week after Obi-Wan and his team had slipped through the blockade and begun their searching, the remnants of the Banking Clan on Mygeeto surrendered. A detachment of ‘troopers would remain on-planet to keep the peace, but the _Mythosaur_ and some of the other ships could withdraw. 

Now the _Mythosaur_ ’s primary objective was getting Jan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan’s squad and their information back to the Jedi Council. The Order needed to know just what Senator Palpatine was, so they could bring him down. Even when he was eliminated though, Obi-Wan knew there would be no easy fix for the state of the galaxy. 

Many of the Separatists had legitimate concerns about the Republic, and their place in it. Corruption had been running rampant for years before war broke out, no doubt helped along by Plagueis, Sidious, and their forebears in the Sith line. With Plagueis defeated, Obi-Wan had hope that some of the animosity might abate, allowing for a diplomatic solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Ad = child  
> Birikad = baby carrier  
> Buir = parent   
> Buy’ce = helmet  
> Cuy’gar, drashaar dralshy’a, akaanir nakar’tuur = live, grow stronger, fight tomorrow / a different day (your author had to sneak an attempt at a Mando’a Methos-ism in there, because I suspect the old man would have made an excellent Mando)  
> Elek/Lek = yes  
> Gar ganayc = I have you (authors best effort at conjugating, may not be correct)  
> Gedet’ye = please  
> Ik’aad(’e) = baby/ies  
> Kaysh morut’yc = he’s safe / secure  
> K’olar = come here  
> Morut’gar = you’re safe / secure   
> Naas = nothing (I use this as in “it’s nothing”)  
> Ne’johaa = be quiet  
> Ner cyare = my beloved  
> ni partayli, gar darasuum = I remember you, so you are eternal  
> Ni cuyi = I’m here / I’m alive  
> Ni kyr’tayl = I know  
> Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum = I love you  
> Olar = here  
> Riduur = spouse  
> Shig = Mando herbal tea, more or less  
> Vode = siblings  
> Vor’e = thanks


	17. Chapter 17

When the _Mythosaur_ dropped into realspace to recalculate their next jump, the news was good from Mygeeto. The elements of the GAR left there to keep order reported that all was well. Elsewhere around the rim, the droid armies were in disorderly retreat, falling back and trying to fortify their positions. The IBC would be intent on protecting their investments now, and with the Republic fleet holding Mygeeto and its profitable mines under embargo, that meant playing nice with the Senate. Jango relayed orders to pursue the retreating droids, and take captive any sentient in command of such an army, with special attention to be paid to General Grievous, who had proven to be one of the more apt Separatist commanders, and one with a well-publicised disdain for the Republic. 

From the Core came less positive news. Someone had arranged to transfer Savage Opress to Judicial custody for questioning by the Senate, and he had escaped while in transit. Three Jedi had died trying to capture the Zabrak, but he had disappeared into the underlevels. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but suspect Sidious had a hand in the matter. 

There were also early and incomplete reports of some sort of trouble at the Alderaanian Refugee Conference at which Padmé was scheduled to give the keynote address, and there was no firm news about her status, or that of her Jedi protectors. Part of Obi-Wan wanted to commandeer the fastest starfighter on the _Mythosaur_ and set out immediately. What if Anakin and Ahsoka were hurt? What if they were held hostage?

Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would expose himself to any and every danger in the universe to protect Padmé and his Padawan. But even in the fastest starfighter on the _Mythosaur_ , it would take days for Obi-Wan to reach the Core Worlds. And once he did, he was only one man. A Jedi yes, and confident in his skills. But those who worked against them - those who would target a non-combatant like Padmé who was only trying to help people - those were not beings Obi-Wan wanted to meet alone. Especially as he had a strong suspicion as to who might have looked at the capable and compassionate former Queen of Naboo and seen someone who needed to be silenced. For now, Obi-Wan would have to wait, would have to trust in Anakin and Ahsoka. 

Such thoughts did little to quell Obi-Wan’s anxiety.

To try and quiet his mind, Obi-Wan threw himself into training with Jango, his squad, and any Mando or trooper that felt reckless enough to go toe-to-toe with him. When he’d worn himself down enough that his thoughts slowed, at least a little, he would go through reports and requisitions until minutiae was all he could think about. Then, he would spend time in the infirmary, folding himself down in front of the bacta tank where Jan floated and meditating, reaching out to his Master’s slumbering mind and gently soothing the pain and fear that lingered there.

Even with full immersion, it was clear that one of Jan’s legs was damaged beyond the help of even Force Healing. The muscles were all but shredded, and what remained was profoundly atrophied. Even if that muscle could be coaxed into strength, the scar tissue would greatly impede his range of motion, and arthritis had settled in his hip and knee. Jan would need a brace to stand at all, and some type of mobility aide to walk. It was unlikely he would ever fight again, according to Juni Kyas, the Pantoran Jedi Healer. 

Obi-Wan wrestled with his guilt at having believed Jan dead, and then finding him alive. His meditation at least helped some with that. Half the galaxy had been between them when Jan was thought killed, and the entire Jedi Order had been misled. Obi-Wan couldn’t hold himself too much at fault without also assigning blame to Masters much more experienced than himself. Jan’s survival, and his perceived death, had been due to the Sith’s power. There, finally, Obi-Wan rightfully laid the responsibility. 

With his mind more settled, Obi-Wan threw himself wholly into doing what he could to help Jango. His riduur, thank the Force, had understood that Obi-Wan was working through something, and let him come to the solution that was right for himself. Once he made clear he was ready to work, Jango was happy to unload piles of reports on his Jedi. They plowed through datawork side by side, and Obi-Wan joined Jango in the comm center aboard the _Mythosaur_ , turning his mind once more to the wider war now that they had a handle on the Master Sith, and a lead on the Apprentice.

The _Mythosaur_ made orbit over Coruscant a week after leaving Mygeeto. Usually leaving a being in the bacta tank for such an extended period would not have been recommended. But between Obi-Wan and Healer Kyas, they were able to keep Jan calm and mostly unconscious. The prolonged immersion did wonders, but even bacta couldn’t solve some of Jan’s health issues. The Healer warned it was likely Jan would have cognitive difficulties for the rest of his life in addition to his new physical limitations, and those would include a much higher likelihood of heart trouble. 

Jan was not a young man. But it was unlikely he would live to be as old as he might have otherwise. Then again, Jedi didn’t often die old in their beds. They might get too slow, or careless, but Jedi tended to to die on their feet. 

Jango, Obi-Wan, their personal guards, Healer Kyas and a medic took Jango’s personal ship down. Wolffe piloted them, the most skilled of Obi-Wan’s squad at that particular task. He glided the vessel easily into its reserved space in the Temple hangers, and Vokara Che, the head Healer in the Temple, was there to meet them with her top team. Yoda and Mace were there as well, Yoda looking twice his age, and even Mace looking a bit wilted. They, like Obi-Wan, were wondering how they’d missed this. 

Behind Jan on the stretcher, Obi-Wan’s squad unloaded the stasis pods. In one rested Sifo-Dyas’ battered body. It would be taken to the morgue and prepared for cremation. The body of Plagueis would be gone over by the Shadows, and then it too would be cremated. In the case of Plagueis though, the cremation was not an honour, but a preventative measure. None of them knew what horrors might be wrought using the body of such a being if it fell into the hands of his apprentice or another Darksider. 

Once they had escorted Jan to the Halls of Healing, Obi-Wan trailed Mace and Yoda to the Council Chambers. He gave only a short debriefing, as the bulk of the mission had already been discussed via holo. Included in that brief report though, was reiteration of Jan’s declaration that Plagueis’ apprentice, Darth Sidious, was Senator Palpatine. The Council dissolved into disagreement, some believing Obi-Wan’s report, others arguing that it simply wasn’t possible - they had met Palpatine repeatedly over the years, and none had felt even a hint of Darkness from him. It was clearly a well-worn discussion - they had likely been arguing over the matter since Obi-Wan sent them the information as an encrypted file shortly after Jan was recovered on Mygeeto. 

Obi-Wan was dismissed as the Councillors continued their discussion, and gladly retreated. He knew Jango would be occupied with army business for a while longer, and so he went to first check on Jan once more, then to pick up Mirah from the creche. He spent the rest of his day until Jango came home playing with their ik’aad, bathing in the simple joy of Mirah’s presence.

* * *

In hopes that Jan would wake in time for the occasion, Sifo-Dyas’ funeral was scheduled for three days after their arrival on Coruscant. Despite that precaution, Jan slumbered yet when his old friend was commended to the pyre. Jan didn’t wake fully for a week after his arrival on Coruscant, and even then, he only surfaced briefly. He’d used all his strength to speak to Obi-Wan during their escape from Mygeeto, and had no reserves from which to draw. 

Another week passed before Jan was able to wake for more than a few minutes at a time, and even then, Jan was clearly confused when he did wake. Obi-Wan was on-call to the Healers’ Halls for the duration, only his presence able to calm Jan. While sitting with Jan, Obi-Wan went through all the data coming in from Alderaanian Refugee Conference with a fine-toothed comb to see if he could help discover what had happened to Padmé and her Jedi protectors. Anakin and Ahsoka proved his trust in them was well-founded before he could begin planning out too serious of a rescue mission though. 

Padmé, Anakin, and Ahsoka resurfaced on Scipio a few days after Sifo-Dyas’ funeral, claiming the Senator of that planet, Rush Clovis, had abducted Padmé. Anakin and Ahsoka had tracked her down and rescued her, taking Clovis into custody in the process. They also managed to slice a significant amount data on the InterGalactic Banking Clan and the Separatists from Clovis’ datasuite. Anakin forwarded the information using the usual Jedi encryption codes, along with his suspicions that Clovis was working with someone highly placed in the Republic’s Senatorial apparatus. Obi-Wan wanted to share the full truth of the matter in his reply, but knew that doing so would be unwise, even over their most secure connection.

The Separatists recovered some of their fighting mettle, proving they were still receiving direction, although the next battles were mostly conducted ship to ship as the Separatists tried to run the blockade at Mygeeto and emplace a cordon of their own around Scipio. The Banking Clan was clearly running scared, but after the initial setback, it affected the Separatist effort as a whole far less than Jango might have hoped. 

Somehow, money for new droids and ships was making its way into the hands of the Techno Union, and so their foundries continued to work. The Corporate Alliance likewise plowed on, raising rates and creating shortages in Republic and Separatist space alike. With the Chancellor’s approval rating in the lower levels, Senator Palpatine of Naboo called for a vote of no confidence, throwing the Senate into chaos. 

Obi-Wan counseled his friends in the Senate as he was able, but by then he was of the opinion that the system was so broken the Separatists might not have been entirely wrong to break off and form a new government. He knew his Master would likely agree, although Jan’s Separatist sympathies were no secret. He had been advocating for reforms in both the government and the Jedi Order since Obi-Wan was a Padawan.

Knowing his Master’s opinion though, was very different than hearing Jan’s excoriating rhetoric. Thankfully, Jan woke a few days after Anakin commed that he was on his way core-ward from the Corporate Sector. Even more importantly, when Jan woke, he was alert and coherent, and eager to report to the High Council.

“As I’m sure my Padawan has told you, the Sith Master was Hego Damask the second,” Jan relayed when he could rise from his sickbed, his voice thin and weak, scratchy still from the breathing tube needed during his prolonged bacta immersion. “He was addressed as Plagueis by his underlings, and believed himself capable of controlling the Force to the degree that he could create and destroy midi-chlorians, and through that skill, create and destroy life.”

The Councilors’ shock could be plainly felt in the council chamber at that opening. If any of them had been thinking of dozing through Jan’s report, that plan was quickly set aside. Jan gave a tired smirk at the stunned horror the Councilors displayed. Only Obi-Wan had maintained his serene facade, although the others soon regained their placid miens.

“Likewise,” Jan continued, “my Padawan has informed you that I believe wholly and fully that Palpatine of Naboo is - or rather was - Plagueis’ apprentice. I do not know if there is any other continuation of their line. Plagueis was much displeased at the capture of Opress, who he did not designate as either Sith or apprentice, viewing him as an assassin at best.” 

Obi-Wan managed just barely not to smirk. Next time he went to the dome, he would be hunting. The Council had not seemed to fully believe his own report claiming Palpatine was a Sith, although he could understand why, to a degree. The man read as a null in the Force, utterly incapable of perceiving that ineffable energy, never mind using it for either good or ill. Still, they could not ignore Jan’s eyewitness report as readily.

Over the next few days, the Council stewed and quarreled, unable to agree what their next move should be. They had no official complaints against Palpatine, no evidence of wrongdoing. It was Anakin who provided the path forward. 

Even before Anakin arrived back on Coruscant with his Padawan and charge, the Shadows and GAR intel began poring through the information he had sent from Scipio. Buried deep in the data were the routing codes for a series of accounts. The Shadows on their own might have been stymied. But with the assistance of GAR military clearances and a few favours from Judicial, they uncovered clear evidence that Palpatine had re-routed Republic funds through a series of proxies and shell corporations to the Techno Union, paying for the droids that even now bombarded the Republic blockade around Mygeeto. 

They saved their evidence in triplicate even as they kept searching. Judicial was brought in to keep track of the charges to be levied against Palpatine, and sworn to utmost secrecy. They worked the clock around ensuring their information was irrefutable - there was no question Palpatine was making a play for the Chancellor’s office with his call for a vote of no confidence in Fang Zar, and the idea of a Sith Lord at the head of the Republic was more than any of them could bear. They needed to destroy his reputation and break his political power wholly but rapidly.

When they pulled together proof that Palpatine had orchestrated the Trade Federation’s blockade and invasion of Naboo over a decade before, Obi-Wan knew they had their coffin-nail. Most politicians would turn a blind eye to a certain amount of corruption. But to so egregiously work against one’s own people and planet was all but unheard of. And conveniently, Obi-Wan and Jango were still inordinately popular on Naboo, and had the trust of the young Queen, Apailana. 

Gathering their information, Obi-Wan picked up Anakin, Padmé, and Ahsoka just as they landed, promising to explain on the way. Obi-Wan’s squad provided additional guards, and they were soon heading to Naboo at top speed. Padmé was first aghast to learn her former mentor had been the one to arrange the subjugation of their people, and then enraged. Obi-Wan didn’t blame her.

Queen Apailana received them happily, although her smile soon faded when they presented their case. Almost instantly she began planning to accompany them to Coruscant so she could publicly strip Senator Palpatine of rank and position for his crimes against the Naboo and Gungan people. Some of her handmaidens would remain behind to run the government in her absence, but she would be accompanied by others, along with her security chief, Gregar Typho, and a Gungan honour guard.

Obi-Wan flew his Aethersprite, escorting Apailana’s gleaming chromium-plated yacht as they descended on Coruscant a few days later. Padmé had elected to travel with her Queen, and so Anakin and Ahsoka too enjoyed the luxurious transport. When they disembarked, Padmé was in the elaborate dress of a former monarch, lending her own considerable political acumen and experience to Apailana’s cause. 

Senators went silent and stared as the two Queens strode into the Senate dome. Apailana wore heavy velvets and brocades in black and gold and violet, her face painted in the smooth white mask that was traditional for monarchs of Naboo. Her upper lip and the scar of remembrance, though, were painted in matte black rather than the usual red, and on her cheeks were painted neither the peaceful red moons nor the less commonly seen blue tears of state mourning, but stark black lightning bolts.

Padmé wore identical lightning bolt marks on her face, although she wore no white paint beneath. The handmaidens too marked their faces with black lightning bolts, their deep hoods pulled back slightly so the paint on their cheeks was visible, even if their eyes were not. With the two painted Queens, their phalanx of handmaidens and Gungan guards, a squad of GAR troopers, and three Jedi, two clad in beskar’gam and the third in a mix of Mando armour and Togruta Huntress garb - they made quite the procession through the halls. In their wake, the gossiping Senators and aides followed, wanting to see this new development firsthand.

As Jango’s Jedi liaison, Obi-Wan was afforded certain privileges in the Senate, and he took full advantage of them, now that they were ready to move against Palpatine. Their group stepped onto the designated military platform, and Obi-Wan removed his buy‘ce to expose his face despite knowing everyone in attendance recognized his beskar’gam. The Vice Chancellor nodded, acknowledging Obi-Wan so he could address the gathered sentients.

“Gentle beings of the Senate,” Obi-Wan began, a more than slightly vulpine smile on his face. He spoke briefly about Mygeeto, telling them for the first time that Sifo-Dyas was not the only Jedi found there, but that Master Dooku had been recovered alive, and had recently awoken. It was information that had already been given to the committee dealing with the war, but not the whole Senate, and Obi-Wan doubted the committee had read that deep into the reports. As he spoke, the Force grew tense in anticipation, and Obi-Wan mentally prepared himself. They had all agreed that Palpatine was best confronted in public, despite the greater chance for bystander casualties. While the danger was high, so was the need for numerous witnesses.

As he had planned with his compatriots, Obi-Wan stopped short of naming Palpatine. Instead he turned the floor over to Padmé. She stepped forward in a soft susurration of silks, dark eyes surveying the gathered assemblage, and spoke. She reported on what she had seen on Scipio, and the data that had been retrieved there, and the trail of corruption linking the Republic and Separatists together. She too stopped short of naming Palpatine, and instead ceded the floor to Queen Apailana.

“Sheev Palpatine,” Apailana thundered, her voice ringing in the stillness. Knowing he was lost, Palpatine jumped, bounding from pod to pod, lightning sparking from his fingertips. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka quickly formed up around the Queens, and a moment later they were engaged. 

Palpatine moved swift and erratic, a crimson-bladed lightsaber in each hand. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were both jar’kai practitioners themselves though, and Anakin was well practiced against dual-wielders. The Sith was formidable, but the Jedi held their ground. Lightsabers flashed fast and furious, the non-combatants doing their best to stay out of the way.

It was Anakin who landed the final strike. Despite the Jedi prohibition against such intent, the three Jedi had all agreed beforehand that they must begin their fight with the assumption they would be fighting to the death. Surrender wasn’t the way of the Sith. And so Anakin cut Sidious down, bisecting him from shoulder to hip. The two halves of his body landed heavily in the Naboo pod, and one of the handmaidens gagged discreetly but managed not to vomit. Silence settled heavily over the Senate, those watching holding their breath for a long moment, waiting to see if it was really over.

“Sheev Palpatine was the Sith Lord known as Sidious,” Apailana picked up where she had been interrupted. “We of Naboo cast him out and cast him down. We name him anathema, a traitor to our people and values. We give him over to the Jedi, and let their justice be ours.” 

The silence echoed resoundingly in the chamber. Apailana glanced to Obi-Wan and nodded. Obi-Wan dipped his head slightly to acknowledge the Queen, then guided the pod through the stunned silence back to the docking ring. Their procession exited the Senate as they had entered, only this time they bore the body of Darth Sidious among them. As they left the dome, it was clear the GAR and Jedi had been watching the live broadcast. Knights, Mando officers and clonetroopers formed up around them, ensuring their safety in case Palpatine had any contingency plans.

For the next three days, Jedi Shadows swarmed through Palpatine’s offices and apartments on Coruscant. Other teams were dispatched to go through his multiple residences on Naboo. Senate sessions began each morning with a listing of the atrocities the Shadows had found the day before. 

There was no question that the Republic had narrowly escaped an even more dire crisis. Despite Palpatine’s nature being revealed though, his call for a vote of no confidence against Chancellor Zar couldn’t be rescinded, and so the potential candidates for the Chancellory busied themselves avowing they’d never liked Palpatine much and certainly never benefited from his schemes. In all the bluster, Mon Mothma quietly amassed the voting bloc necessary to step into the power vacuum left behind, with the support of Bail Organa and much of the Delegation of 2000. 

It took a little longer for the war to stutter to a halt. Among the last gasps of the conflict, though, was the uprising of the remnants of Death Watch on Concordia and Mandalore, supplemented by criminals and malcontents brought in from other worlds. The Mando’ade present in the GAR received the news with extreme displeasure, even moreso when it became clear that the name had been revived by an outsider, a tall, tattooed Zabrak who claimed he would found a new Sith Empire. Savage Opress had resurfaced, with a grudge against Republic and Mandalore alike. 

“Kyr’tsad,” Jango hissed, the name of Death Watch a swear on his lips. Obi-Wan’s own mouth pulled into a feral grimace, and he began to plan. A week later, three hundred Haat Mando’ade descended on Mandalore with Obi-Wan at their head. Due to his contract with the Republic, Jango was unable to leave the GAR to retake his home system as he wanted, but Obi-Wan was more than willing to lead the charge in the name of his Mand’alor. 

On the ground in Sundari, the city was a warzone. Savage’s forces designated themselves with streaks and blots of searing neon yellow paint on their beskar’gam. Many of those who fought in the Sundari resistance wore the sigil of an owl’s face - the Night Owls, Obi-Wan soon learned they called themselves, and he was somewhat less than surprised when he learned they were led by Bo-Katan Kryze, who had otherwise kept to the strictures of her parole since leaving Death Watch herself. 

With Bo-Katan and her nephew Korkie both at his side, Obi-Wan found Duchess Kryze held captive in the detention level of her own palace when they swept Sundari for any remaining hostiles. Going in, the Haat Mando’ade hadn’t known whether or not the Duchess was alive or not. Her blue eyes widened almost comically at the sight of the Darksaber though, and she gracefully and gratefully accepted Haat Mando’ade assistance while the war wound down in the Republic.

The self-proclaimed Mand’alor Savage was a bit more of a challenge - his skills as a fighter had improved since the last time he’d faced Obi-Wan on the field of battle. Against someone else, Savage might have prevailed. Against Obi-Wan, who was something of a specialist in Sith, Savage fought hard, and was defeated. Seeing their nominal leader cut down by the Darksaber, most of the Death Watch commandos made the wise decision to surrender. Those who continued to fight paid with their lives.

When the battle ended, the captured members of Death Watch were brought to trial in Sundari. Many were criminals brought in from outside the Mando culture to pad Savage’s ranks. Those with charges pending in the Republic would be sent on to face those trials as well. Those who were Mando, when proven guilty, were sentenced to death for their treason. Almost uniformly, they were proven guilty. 

The Duchess argued for clemency, for exile instead of death. In the Duchess’ opinion, exile, never to set foot on Manda’yaim or any of its colony worlds again, would be just as bad as death for the radical traditionalists still clinging to Death Watch teachings. While the Mando diaspora was numbered in the trillions if not higher, and their people lived throughout the known galaxy, the idea of being cut off from their home planet with no recourse and no chance for return was abhorrent to most Mando’ade. Obi-Wan had no say in such matters, although he worried exile would only result in another group of disaffected Mando’ade with a grudge in a few years. 

Obi-Wan returned to the Temple, but many of the Haat Mando’ade remained on Manda’yaim. For them, the war was over. They would take up - or return to - positions as Journeymen Protectors throughout the sector, keeping the peace until Jango sent other orders. Even as Obi-Wan headed back to Coruscant, Arla Fett loaded up all the young cadets from the last batches of clones decanted on Kamino, and undertook the migration of the now much-enlarged Fett clan back to Mandalorian space. 

Arla settled them on the Fett farm on Concord Dawn, although it was a tight fit. The community there rallied around her, and Shmi Skywalker was one of the first to come visit and offer help. It didn’t take long for childless Mando’ade to find their way to Arla, carefully asking if there was any chance for them to take ade home. With the help of the other Haat Mando’ade, Arla vetted such potential families carefully, but if they passed her stringent tests, the decision was left to the vode. Thus a few hundred clones found their ways by ones and twos into the population of Mandalore, Concordia, Draboon, Concord Dawn, Vorpa’ya, Shukut, and the many other habitable worlds of Mando space. Many more were adopted by Haat Mando’ade who settled throughout the sector.

As soon as Obi-Wan was back in the Temple, he was sent out on mission after mission. In an echo of the outset of the war, he was called upon as one of the foremost Jedi negotiators to hammer out ceasefires and truces, treaties of every sort to settle a tentative peace. When it was possible, Obi-Wan travelled with only the dedicated squad of troopers who had decided he was theirs to protect - Ponds, Cody, Wolffe, or Bly. Sometimes, a larger force was necessary, and Obi-Wan would travel with a battalion, usually one of those commanded by his squad. 

Coordinating a ceasefire in Republic and Separatist space took months. A true peace agreement took even longer. Mirah was two years old, toddling and babbling in Mando’a and Basic, before a solid peace was reached. The Senate weren’t the only ones making difficult decisions in those days though. The Order too had discovered more than a few issues that needed to be addressed. Once Jan had regained some of his strength, he made his opinions on all matters heard loud and clear, and this time, the Council listened a bit more closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Kyr’tsad = Death Watch  
> Manda’yaim = the planet of Mandalore


	18. Chapter 18

Jango sat up slowly, reaching for the steaming mug of shig he smelled close at hand. This, they had already decided, would be his last pregnancy. When the war had ended, he and Obi-Wan had decided they wanted another ik’aad, and Jango had soon grown heavy with their second, named Ruusaan after Jango’s mother. The babe in his belly now would be the third he carried. Jango felt every year of his age these days, though, and while he would happily welcome this little one, any other ade would need to be adopted; his body just didn’t bounce back as it once had. 

Shuffling to his feet, Jango washed up and dressed and went out into the central room of the sprawling house. The sun was already well over the horizon, so Obi-Wan would be out in the fields with his Padawan Kalifa and the other Jedi, helping the more agriculturally-inclined vode who had settled around them. They lived in a marginal area where the northern habitable zone of Manda’yaim faded into the harsh white sand deserts left after Dral’Han. 

A small group of Jedi had joined them here, mostly comprised of the other Knights and Masters who had volunteered for the GAR during the war, and adapted to Mando customs and mores and been adopted as Mando’ade in turn. There was an academy too, where the majority of the Force-sensitive clones, his own offspring, and the children of the others in the settlement trained as both Mando’ade and Jedi. Their numbers were bolstered with young Mando Force-sensitives brought from throughout the Mando Sector by parents who wanted them trained in Jedi skills, but also in the Mando tradition. Arla and the vode she had claimed as her own had joined them on Manda’yaim too, and Arla had taken to running the attached creche, which provided community day-care services for those too young for formal education. Until recently, Ruusaan had spent her days there. Nowadays she was old enough to begin her formal schooling.

Boba was in the main room of the house, cleaning his beskar’gam and weapons. Jango smiled at his son, a teenager now and finishing his training under Myles and Silas, who managed the day to day clan business for the Haat Mando’ade. The beskar’gam was forged from Jango’s, remade to fit Boba’s slighter form. It would have to be re-cast a few times before Boba stopped growing, but that would just give Jango more chances to impart his skills and knowledge on how to cast and forge armour. It might be a bit antiquated to the rest of the galaxy, but it was the Mando way. 

“Ba’vodu Anakin left a message,” Boba said in greeting, jerking his stubbled chin at the comm. Jango grunted and went over, playing the holo. Padmé had given birth, a boy they were calling Quin after Anakin’s Finder. Their older twins, Luke and Leia, were between Jango and Obi-Wan’s Mirah and Ruusaan in age, and their second daughter Cordé was a bit younger than Ruusaan.

With the reforms in the Jedi Order, Anakin had happily taken up the post of Watchman on Naboo. A small Jedi and vode community had grown up around him there, with many of the vode staring after Padmé’s former handmaidens in near worship at first. Jango wasn’t surprised when some of them eventually paired off and started families of their own, giving Luke and Leia plenty of other children to play with. 

“Want to go meet your new cousin on Naboo?” Jango asked. 

“Yeah,” Boba said with a sweet smile. Jango was glad that there was still some boyishness left in his eldest, a softness that had been forced out of Jango far younger. Jango smiled in response, and ruffled Boba’s short curls on his way into the kitchen. After a light meal, Jango went to the creche, and amused himself with the little ones there. He and Arla spoke about the progress the adiike were making, Arla’s eyes resting as they so often did on her own adopted children. 

At midday, Obi-Wan and Kalifa came in from the fields, and Mirah and Ruusaan came home from the school for the meal at Jango and Obi-Wan’s home, the largest in their settlement. They tucked in happily, enjoying the simple but delicious food, sharing tales and information. Jango leaned into Obi-Wan’s side, amazed as he almost always was now by how much had changed. Neither he nor Obi-Wan wore armour any more, and despite having fought so hard against his original assignment as a farmer for the AgriCorps, Obi-Wan was happiest these days in the fields, helping extend the green areas a little further into the desert each year, slowly reclaiming Manda’yaim from the blistering sun and sands. 

That wasn’t to say Obi-Wan was no longer a Jedi. He would be a Jedi until the day he died, it was simply part of who Obi-Wan was. Beyond that, he went on missions, although mostly in Mando space, and had taken as his Padawan an intrepid girl a few years younger than Ahsoka. Every year the Jedi in the settlement would make the trip to Coruscant at least once, sometimes to stay for a few months, other times for only a few days. 

The Temple there at the core of the Republic was still the nerve center of their Order, but the Jedi were spread throughout the galaxy now, even on non-Republic-aligned worlds like Mandalore, offering their help to all who sought them, and offering Force training even to those who would never become Jedi. It was something of a trial run still, at the insistence of Master Dooku. Spreading out brought them closer to the public they served, the now frail Master had argued, and allowed them a greater understanding of what their constituent communities really needed. Jango certainly wasn’t going to complain. It meant he could honour his position as Mand’alor without being separated so often or so long from his riduur. 

“You saw An’ika’s message?” Jango asked that night as he and Obi-Wan settled down together, and Obi-Wan nodded, sleepily nuzzling against Jango. “When do you want to leave?” Jango asked, and Obi-Wan chuckled softly. 

“Two days?” Obi-Wan offered, knowing it took them longer to get things organized these days. “Boba want to come?”

“Mmmmhmmm. I think he’s got a crush on Lady Apailana.”

“At least they’re close in age,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle. Jango huffed softly, knowing what his riduur meant. Some of the vode had trouble finding mates, their bodies and minds those of full adults, but the years they’d actually lived far shorter. Some looked at them and saw hardened veterans, and didn’t understand they hadn’t ever had lives outside the GAR before the war. While the troopers had been trained to function in myriad situations, that education was somewhat lacking, as it focused mainly on skills and facts that would be useful to a soldier. Adjusting to civilian life, for those who had chosen that path, took time and effort, and not all potential partners were understanding of that. There had been more than a few broken hearts along the way.

Most vode were settling into post-war life, now that the war had been over for five years. Many had remained soldiers for a few years in the aftermath, filling out security forces on numerous planets where they were in high demand. Others happily found new paths as civilians, becoming doctors and mechanics and farmers and teachers as it suited them. And too, not a few became members of the Jedi Service Corps, like those who worked to revitalize the deserts of Manda’yaim. 

If Jango had thought much about his future back when he took the contract on Galidraan, he’d have guessed he’d be a bounty hunter and mercenary his whole life. He would have guessed that he would die in the warring of the clans. He’d had no thought then of a partner, of children, of a legacy that would follow him long after his name was but a memory. 

Then a fiery little Jetii had caught his eye, had sworn his light and life to Jango. No, Jango would never have imagined a man on his third chance, his second master, might become his first and only love. But Obi-Wan had settled at Jango’s side, and while they had separated at times to accomplish their goals and fulfill their duties, they were together, and always would be, bound by love and loyalty. It was a prize unlooked for, and Jango knew that when the time came for him to go marching far away, even then they would be together, their souls linked in the manda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a:**  
>  Ade = children  
> Adiike = children aged 3 to 13  
> Dral’Han = lit. annihilation. Mando name for the Mandalorian Excision  
> Ik’aad = baby, child under the age of 3  
> Manda = the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like  
> Manda’yaim = the planet of Mandalore  
> Riduur = spouse

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also @wrennette on tumblr, deviantart, pillowfort, and dreamwidth, feel free to come say hey.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Be'Mand'alor Beskade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697735) by [SilverTonguedSlytherin1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverTonguedSlytherin1/pseuds/SilverTonguedSlytherin1)
  * [Jettise Nayc Ori](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787480) by [SilverTonguedSlytherin1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverTonguedSlytherin1/pseuds/SilverTonguedSlytherin1)
  * [Vaar'tur Shekemi Akaan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829432) by [SilverTonguedSlytherin1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverTonguedSlytherin1/pseuds/SilverTonguedSlytherin1)
  * [Haar Mand'alor Urci ti Evaar'la Mando'ade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836932) by [SilverTonguedSlytherin1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverTonguedSlytherin1/pseuds/SilverTonguedSlytherin1)




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